3rd August 2013 - Home

The keys to the boat after the event - slightly rusty !

Merlin goes back into storage late this evening the 3rd. 
Its been a long long journey in only 10 days. 
I learnt so much about driving boats in heavy weather, 
about sea survival, and about myself. 
With the donations that everyone has given, the money raised for the RNLI stands at almost £3,200.00. This is great news and far exceeds my expectations, so I would like to thank everyone who donated, whatever the amount, great or small. 
You have helped make a difference.

....until the next time !

                                

2nd August 2013 - Dingle to errr..... Dingle

With the prospect of a second weather day looming after this one, the thought is crossing my mind that I have to get Merlin back across the Irish Sea. The easiest and cheapest way is to have Stu drive it around the rest of the course and back to Neyland Marina where the car and trailer are parked. There is no indication of a let up in the weather, so I start looking at ways to get back to West Wales. 
With the help of Chris at MBA, I eventually work out a plan. 
Stu and I enlist the help of the Suzuki truck guys, to get to Crosshaven near Cork. We speak with the loacl Suzuki dealer there who hooks us up with a cabbie who will take us all the way to Rosslare in time for the last ferry that night to Pembroke Dock at 8.45 pm.
Its a long way and we make it with 40 minutes to spare. 
The ferry docks at 01.00 am and leaves again to go back to Rosslare at 02.45 am. Just enough time for me to take a taxi to Neyland Marina, hitch up the trailer to the car and get on the 02.45 am sailing. Also with us is a Father and Son team from Belgium whose boat name is Oban. Their boat took a pounding coming into Dingle and is now considered too badly damaged to continue so they are returning for their trailer as well.
By 01.45 am both teams are waiting to board the ferry with trailers in tow.
I take a cabin once onboard and get 3 hours sleep.
The ferry docks at Rosslare at 06.55 am and before long we are rolling through the irish countryside in the direction of Dingle. Just a note on Irish geography, Dingle is on a peninsula. If Dingle was any further west it would be in Manhattan. Its a fair old drive, but we make it by 2.00 pm and proceed to the marina slipway to recover Merlin onto the trailer. Quite a few of the challenge crews still in the event are milling around the pontoons. 

Prepping for the tow back from Dingle, the stainless steel under deck fuel tank has split from the pounding

We winch Merlin up onto the trailer and I undo the bung that drains the bilge.
Pure petrol runs out...lots of it. We have to get some containers to take this fuel, before we can continue draining the bilge. 
Its becoming clear that the huge underfloor stainless steel tank has taken a big impact and split somewhere. This means the definite end of the challenge for Merlin. I flush the spilt gas down the slipway and flush fresh water through the outboard. With the boat settled on the trailer, we set off for Rosslare hoping to catch the 20.45 pm sailing that evening. We make it with 30 minutes to spare. By 01.00 am we are driving off at Pembroke Dock, heading for the North East UK.

Waiting at Rosslare terminal for the 20.45 sailing back to Wales

The Irish adventure over for 2013

1st August 2013 - Fenit to Dingle

The muscle relaxant and painkilling jab are fantastic. I am able to walk carefully and get dressed (luckily Stu had put my kit bag in the ambulance or I would be wearing a dry suit again!). I take a taxi into town and go to the pharmacy to pick up my new prescription painkillers and muscle relaxant, then have the taxi take me out to the marina at Fenit.
The flotilla, including Stu driving Merlin, have left. One of the other small boats has a problem and is still there. Richard, someone I know from the RIB forum, is helping the owner get his problem sorted, but more importantly has a landrover and a plan to go to Dingle that afternoon. I wait with my kit bag in the doorway of the lifeboat station. 
Two of the off duty lifeboat men are there and we get talking. Richard encourages me to tell them what happened to me a few days ago and I get asked in for a coffee ! Nice guys who go to reinforce the importance of my Just Giving page and fund raising for the RNLI.
An hour or so later and after some above and beyond assistance rendered by Richard to the stranded small boat, he is driving me down to Dingle and drops me at my hotel.
Although I am aware of the pain in my back, the drugs I have been given are holding everything in check and making me feel quite normal. All the boats have arrived in Dingle when we get there, including Merlin and Stu is giving it a look over before shutting down. I feel a bit crest fallen, seeing everyone hovering around their boats, but the news is that weather is closing in and tomorrow will be a weather day. Some of the big boats seperated yesterday, three made for a beach and camped, and three stayed in Galway...all due to the atrocious weather conditions. That night in Dingle I join the boys from the Suzuki truck, Richard and Donegal Dan, getting food and some drinks, although strictly non alcoholic for me !

31st July 2013 - Rosmoney Clew Bay to Fenit

8.10 am the minibus taxi picks me up. Its already carrying about 5 or 6 crews and the banter is good. I have hobbled into the shower and taken Ibuprofen, grabbed a sandwich from the B and B breakfast room, and feel a little less like chattering. My back doesnt feel good, and I am wondering how much of a pounding it will take today. 
The skippers breifing is held in the Sailing club, the boats will have to make for Westport first to refuel from the tanker on the quayside. I go and see the guys driving the Suzuki truck (its the only corporate presence on the Challenge and is at every stop) as I will be needing 2 stroke oil for the outboard. She goes through approx 4 litres per 160 litres of fuel. The Fuel and 2 stroke is auto mixed, just have to keep an eye on the oil tank level.
The boys in the truck are super helpful and hook me up with their local dealer who will meet me at the quay in Westport with 12 litres of oil.
Its raining ! for a change ! and the boats speed round to Westport. 
I sneak along the quay wall and into position for fuel, the hose is lowered down and I brim the tanks. The boat smells of fuel more strongly than normal but figure some must have been spilt when refuelling from the cans yesterday.

The fuelling tanker from the Donegal Fuel Company that covered every fuel stop
apart from Dun Laogaire, Bangor and Kilmore Quay

Once fuelled I steer Merlin out through the archipeligo of islands and into clew bay. 
Weather conditions so far are not bad and we can keep up a decent speed.
Then only about 2 miles into the Bay I pick up a lobster pot. 
I had seen the buoy and given it a wide enough 25 yard berth, but the pots here seem to have a lot of floating line and it snags around the outboard leg. I immediately drop the engine into neutral and switch off, and am very fortunate as I stop the prop before the rope gets to it.
I call up Top Hat on the VHF and the flotilla comes to a halt, one of the other boats heads over to help but before he gets there, I am able to untangle the line from the leg and it falls clear. Carefully I start the engine, and everything seems fine. 
We decide to head to Inishbofin Island, at the briefing it was thought worth going to see. 
Its a lonely looking place, with an old fort guarding the harbour that goes back to Cromwell's time. Interestingly enough there are no trees on the island, although there had been previously. Once cut down it was found trees were unable to re-establish themselves. What Inishbofin does have is rain, and some very friendly inhabitants who have come down to the harbour to greet the small boats that have moored themselves against the jetty. We spend a very short 5 minutes looking around and chatting to the locals. They are very interested in the Ribs and quite knowledgeable about them.

Top Hat the safety boat with the impressive SeaWolf rafted alongside

Leaving Inishbofin, we turn south and head for Slyne Head. The weather worsens and more and more I am driving for a soft landing, backing off on the crests more than I normally would, and just letting Merlin's bow fall over the top before powering on across the confused sea behind before letting off for the next crest. Where the crest's are close together, then progress becomes slow. 

Merlin catches some air

The initial plan had been to use the islands - running inside of them - for cover, but the wind is now blowing S / SW and heaping up big confused seas, added to the heavy rain and spray, visibility is very poor at times. Inevitably I get caught out in this watery blindness by two crests and take another bad landing. I feel winded and my back is screaming at me to stop. 

All looking grey - sea and sky

I raise Searider on the VHF and ask Stu to transfer over to Merlin again, there is quite the swell running but that transfer is easy. I radio Paul in Top Hat and ask to come across. It will involve a transfer under way, and the rails on Top Hat are a formidable obstacle, but I know that I cant go on taking the thumps on my boat. Stu gets Merlin alongside Top Hat and I have three attempts at getting onto the larger boat before finally getting through the rails. Its absolute agony, as my back contorts with the effort, and I end up laying on the exposed back deck of Top Hat for a few minutes to recover. 
Paul Glaetzal, the skipper of Top Hat talks to me about an extraction, but a second winch up in a week doesnt appeal at all. I settle in the cabin astride another fender to soften the impacts. Top Hat is a different environment to Freya to say the least. Paul's family is aboard, and his dog. They all look very concerned, and I reason to myself that any Lifeboat extraction won't be any more comfortable than this, so I resolve to just tough it out.  Paul drives Top Hat extremely sympathetically, and tries to minimise the hits - a tough job given the unpredictable swells and crests. The whole flotilla of small boats plug on southwards, over 50 miles to run, at speeds between 8 and 12 knots.
I hold on tight to the table in the cabin, take another Ibuprofen. I am fairly sure I have done something serious to my back, the pain on getting aboard was intense. Sitting on the fender helps a lot, and Paul's family are very engaging which takes my mind off things. The flotilla plugs on, and is heading directly for Loop head. It seems to take forever, and the light is starting to go, beyond Loop head, yet another headland at Kerry Head, and Paul cajoles the small boats along over the VHF. I wonder if Stu can actually hear him as the VHF on Merlin has been waterlogged for the last few days, and I have been using my replacement handheld for communication.
Eventually, Paul leads in the small boats to Fenit as its totally dark now. Just a couple of miles with him leading, and everyone exhausted, trying to maintain contact, driving in line astern. A new voice comes over the VHF from Fenit harbour giving berthing directions. I have stayed in the same position on Top Hat, hands locked around the table for the last 6 hours. As we pull up to the pontoon, Paul talks with the off duty lifeboatmen who are helping with berthing. An ambulance is called and with Top Hat tied up I stay perched on the fender in the cabin until it gets there. 
Its midnight, its raining, and I am heading off to Tralee Hospital A and E breathing Entenox! Not sure if I will be coming back to the challenge at all. On the way there, I answer all the questions being fired at me and supply them with a potted history of the last few days including my ejection and rescue from St Georges Channel. The paramedic is probably marking me down as patient at high risk of harming himself ! 
Its relatively quiet in the hospital and I am wheeled into a bay and gingerly transferred to the bed from the trolley. I spy scissors and stop the nurses from cutting into my very lovely and dear to me dry suit. With some help I get it unzipped, over my head, my arms out and shrug it down, saving it to fight another day !
After an initial examination, I am taken for some x-rays of shoulder, neck and spine.
I realise I am starving, and have eaten nothing for the last 14 hours. Duly, a chicken sandwich arrives, and a glass of water. The news is that the neck/collar bone suffered no 
injury discernable on the x ray during the ejection and the spine just shows a slight compression and they stressed the slight part, on L3. After a painkilling jab and some muscle relaxant I doze a little but its 6.30 am and before long they come round with breakfast and the cheery news that I should stay off boats for the next month while my back heals. Any decision as to whether I can continue has just been made for me.

30th July 2013 - Killybegs to Clew Bay

Skippers meeting is early, but my back seems to be seized and I crawl around like a tortoise for a while. A hot shower and Ibuprofen help. Suited up, I join the others at the quay for the meeting. 

Skippers meeting Killybegs

The weather is Force 4 to 6 - SW to W - so all the talk is of hugging the coast and using whatever land we can for cover. Also using Achill Sound, to cut off Achill Head, but concensus is the tide will be too low even for the small boats. As soon as we leave, Top Hat, which is the small boats safety vessel, has an engine problem and has to return to Killybegs. This is a big loss, the safety vessels are a big confidence boost.
The larger cabin Rib- Freya, assumes the Safety vessel role for the whole flotilla.
We head across Donegal Bay - hugging the Sligo coast and we are able to keep a steady speed, although we are heading directly into the swells. 
I take a few thumps and my back cries enough. Just before Erris Head we shelter behind an island called the Stags. 

Milling about trying to shelter behind Stags Island - Merlin extreme right

Stu, who is riding on Jurgen the German's Searider, has offered to drive Merlin for a spell as he knows my back is hurting, and I decide now is the time. Stu transfers to Merlin, I call up Freya on the VHF and she swings past and picks me up. I settle gingerly onto a fender they have placed on their cushions in the cabin. Its still a few hours left to go, but they zig and zag and generally drive sympathetically, so I dont feel too badly knocked about by the time they arrive in Rosmoney, Clew Bay. Mayo sailing club is throwing a reception for the Round Ireland Rib Challenge, with food, live music and much irish hospitality, however I am looking for Ibuprofen, a hot shower and a ride to Westport to my B and B. Around 11.30 pm I finally get there, back very sore, and collapse on the bed. Pick up is 8.10 am in the morning.

29th July 2013 - Bangor to Killybegs

Drat drat drat .... I missed my alarm call and the 05.00 am small boats departure time.
I scurry out from the B and B, suit up in the marina changing rooms and join the 6.00 am departure time for the big boats. 

Mustering outside Bangor Harbour

At first I am a little anxious about keeping up with them, but with the mid leg fuel stop, I open up the throttle a bit and cruise at around 25 knots. The seas are calm and I am beginning to relax and enjoy the amazing views of the Antrim coast.
We pass between Rathlin Island and the mainland. Rathlin looks peaceful this early in the morning and I must return there for a closer look one day.

We stop at the rope bridge fishermans cottage. there are sea caves here as well.

 Carrick - a - Rede rope bridge

Rope Bridge at Carrick-A-Rede

In tight to the sea cliffs

From here we head on to the Giants Causeway.

In company With RibQuest 1, I pull Merlin in close to the Causeway

Running on from here in company with Ribquest 1 we both contrive to miss the entrance to Lough Foyle !!! and have to ask a passing trawler for directions to our fueling stop at GreenCastle. We meet up with the rest of the flotilla and take on fuel and food.

Looking studious, but actually eating an apple !
Waiting to restart from Greencastle...and yes that is a happy pig on the transom

Merlin is basically a floating gas tank. Around 120 litres in a Stainless steel under deck tank, plus an additional 38 litres in 2 plastic cans that sit under the seat pad at the front of the console.
After leaving GreenCastle - we head north west - through Inishtrahull Sound, and then lose the shelter of the land, and turn south west to run towards Tory Sound and Tory Island, all the time the weather is picking up. 

Heading along the North West coast of Ireland

We pass Bloody Foreland (nice) and head full on into some bad weather. I am struggling to maintain the pace of the bigger boats at this point. SeaWolf - a 10 meter offshore Humber Rib slows to my pace. 

Seawolf keeps tabs on Merlin in the distance

Pushing on past Aran Island, I take 3 big thumps in succession, and a short while later the boat takes a huge thump as it comes off a wave, which in the spray and poor visibility I hadn't had time to react to. It feels like someone sticking a knife in my spine. I am winded, and cant even get a yelp of pain out. 
I am off the gas and just sitting upright in the boat. Seawolf comes over to check on me.
They pass on that the small boats group is very close now and suggest I go over and join them. 
I pull myself together and adrenaline takes over. 10 minutes later I am slogging along through the weather with the small boats at a realistic pace. The bad seas continue, lumpy confused, as Merlin crests a wave and drops into the trough, the spray thrown up at the front of the boat is picked up on the quarter by the wind and thrown straight at me. The amount of spray hitting the visor on my Gecko prevents me seeing clearly and again I stuff the boat a few times. (Later in Killybegs some wag has the answer to that problem ..... "get a cabin"- doh!)
The bad weather continues until we can turn East at Malin Head and run into Donegal Bay heading for Killybegs. We ride along on a following sea, this in itself is tricky to drive and requires concentration to avoid the wave behind catching you up. Finally after 180 miles at sea and 14 hours, we pull into Killybegs and spot the refueling trucks on the quay. As I wait my turn at the pumps, my back realises its got no reason to ignore my brain and starts to spasm. 

Arriving in Killybegs

Waiting my turn for fuel

By the time I have rafted up (badly) with the other boats and struggled up to the top of the ladder I am really feeling it, but I check the skippers meeting time and must eat as am starving. Finally I collapse into the bed at the Tara Hotel on the quayside. The rumour mill is suggesting tomorrow's weather may be too bad to continue, but I know not to pay too much attention, the weather in Ireland will always surprise you given a few days.

All the boats rafted up at Killybegs - Merlin is extreme left.

28th July 2013 - Dun Laoghaire to Bangor

Today was a beautiful morning - still and sunny - it boded well. 
I had a little bit of a ribbing (sorry for the pun) during the skippers meeting this morning.
Apparently the rear seat in my Rib is now known as the naughty seat. No one wants to sit there. As I had turned up in my dry suit from the hotel in the morning, I was also asked if I had slept in it...well you never know when there is going to be a flood do you?

I had a bit of catch up to do as I got in late last night and hadn't fuelled, but we all got away and it turned out to be quite lumpy from Howth all the way up.
I inadvertently seemed to be creeping ahead of the pack all the time, but the sweet spot on the engine is 4000 rpm and that gives me about 23 or 24 knots, and optimum fuel consumption, I was also trying to find a speed where the boat felt comfortable. Must have seemed very anti social of me to stay 400 yards ahead all the time, but I kept turning around to make everyone in the small boats floatilla was still moving. 
Paul Glaetzal tells me it takes a day to get used to staying together as a pack.
Its extremely comforting to have Top Hat - the safety boat - there with a lot of experience at the helm. You dont feel so vulnerable.
The two Highfield ribs seem to handle the chop well, I like their shape with the slightly upturned bow. They seem like a soft ride.
We pulled into Strangford Lough intending to raft up and eat lunch but the tide was rushing in, so we sort of drifted around a bit and ate lunch, then cracked on. Ran through a thunderstorm on the approach to Bangor, and it washed a ton of salt off the tubes and instruments. Was quite refreshing. I headed the small boats in just in time to find the fuel berth freeing up so made straight for it.

On the leg from Dun Laoghaire to Bangor, the small boats are pulled together for a photocall

Thoughts so far on other pieces of my kit. Love the Garmin 750, wish its direct sunlight performance was a tad better but on the whole its been really good to use. The Gecko Helmet is absolutely brilliant. Just the fatigue reducing factor through windblast is such a plus. I wish I had the VHF hooked up to the ears in it, as I miss quite a lot of radio traffic with wind noise and the helmet being on, but its been a big hit with me on this trip.
The Tohatsu 90C has so far been great. It rumbles along - quite raspy, and sits happily at 4000 revs doing around 22 to 24 knots. Fuel consumption is OK at that speed, but push into 5000 rpm and around 29/30 knots and you can watch the gauge go down.

Moored up in Bangor Marina, Merlin seems very small next to all the other craft. 

After checking into the B and B, I take the opportunity to catch up on some laundry (under my dry suit I wear a fleece onesie which keeps me very warm, but after a few days .... well ... you get the picture) and wander around the town a little.

Tomorrow is an early start - 6.00 am - would be good to get some decent weather, and calmer seas, driving in chop is ok in a 10 metre rib but just lumpy and uncomfortable in Merlin.

27th July 2013 - from the jaws of defeat etc ....

I spent the night in the Bridge Hotel and after yesterday’s dramas, I woke a little non-plussed. The enormity of what had happened hadn’t quite sunk in. I mean, yes…I understood what had happened, and I was mentally replaying it in my mind, but the frustration I felt while in the water, at the situation I found myself in, had started to slip out of my consciousness.

Above everything …and even now writing this a week after the events, the over-riding image in my mind is of seeing the big yellow Seaking Helo, swing around and position itself squarely in front of me 50 feet up and about 70 feet away, so that I was looking directly at the cockpit. I don’t think that moment and how I felt, will ever leave me.

I missed breakfast but the kind souls at the hotel made me a bacon buttie, just what was needed for the day ahead. I was just determined to get back in the Challenge, and was running through possible repair scenarios. No time for GRP repair, I had packed the drill in my car (who knows why) and so bought mastic, stainless steel self tapping screws and the only handheld vhf they had in the chandlery at Neyland Marina. I opted for the "Searider" approach and spent most of the morning and lunchtime drilling the internal seat flange at Neyland marina on a berth (glad it wasnt raining) and slapped a bunch of stainless self tappers and a bunch of mastic on the floor. Seems as well fixed now as the rear jockey which is bolted. 

I wandered back down to the car park and suited up for the crossing, taking extra care about everything. I couldn’t re-use my Hybrid Baltic Rib lifejacket so had to use my spare Crewsaver 275. Comfortable but not as warm as the Baltic.

I telephoned Milford Haven Coast Guard and checked in with the watch officer, gave him details of my route and expected eta of 20.00. The plotter read 110 miles straight line to Dun Laoghaire.  Quite a crossing. I checked in with the lovely peeps at Milford Haven Coast Guard by VHF, and thanked them for their assistance yesterday.

I have to admit it took a lot of will power to get back in the boat and specifically to point it at the open sea when leaving the sound. Bit like riding a bike, had to get back on. The passage started lumpy, so I took my time, passed a lot of suicidal welsh sea birds, puffins, manx shearwater, guillemot...A couple of seals, and a porpoise. Duly, the sea quietened down mid St Georges channel with a little mist. 

The AIS came into its own then as I was able to pick up the shipping traffic, a fair time before I could see it. I wonder what they made of this 5 metre RIB heading across the shipping lanes in the mist! Well …maybe I can guess. 

Grinding down the miles, I was getting concerned about my fuel state, and stopped about 20 miles off the Irish coast to add the first of my 18 litre cans to the tank. As fuel was going to be a little tight I decided to head directly to the coast and head up so that I could if need be, drop into a harbour and try to get more gas.

After another 20 minutes I stopped again and added my last 18 litre can to the tank. I was about 5 miles short of Wicklow and 20 to run to Dun Laoghaire, but despite wanting to try and run the last few miles I decided that it would be more prudent to head into the harbour and try to find fuel. It was just coming up to 8.00 pm, so I also checked in with Milford Haven Coast guard by phone to let them know I was safe on the Irish Side.

I clambered up the ladder at the fish quay with two empty petrol cans and found a new friend almost immediately. He was Lithuanian, spoke extremely limited English/Irish, but enough to realise what I needed, and so I bundled into his car in Drysuit and lifejacket and headed out of town to the only open gas station. Who knows what they thought when I walked inside the gas station to pay, but the clerks said nothing and acted like it happens every day …love Ireland!

On the way back my new Lithuanian friend told me he was in fact the street sweeper for Wicklow and drove me down the main street. “….’dis my street…. I cleeeen ‘dis street.” He proclaimed.  “…..you know peeples take a poop on ‘dis street” he added and noting my bewilderment, he added “….a full poop ! “ 

Thanks given I lowered the full gas cans down into the boat and emptied them into the tank, started her up and headed out towards Dun Laoghaire.

Leaving Wicklow with dusk falling rapidly

Coming out from Wicklow the sun was setting behind the mountains, it looked majestic and triumphant. I took out my camera and took a couple of shots. Its hard to take pictures on the boat when moving at speed as I always need to have hands for control etc…but I think they came out ok.

The light was failing rapidly when I made Dun Laoghaire and pulled Merlin round into the Marina. I found a vacant berth next to the other Ribs and moored up, got my kit for the night out and called Hugo, the organiser and main protagonist, to check in and find out where they where (Purties Kitchen). 

The Sun sets behind the Mountains - Wicklow

After the longest walk EVER to get out of the marina, I eventually made it to the watering hole, still in my dry suit and carrying my kit bag.  A few unusual looks but once inside everyone was super friendly and very curious about the preceding day’s events. 

The Guiness had by now assumed "Ice Cold in Alex" proportions!

After an hour or so I was dropped gratefully at my hotel. I don’t know how I got out of the dry suit – but I did and was asleep on the bed extremely quickly, I have to say , feeling quite pleased with my effort on Day 2. 

My shoulder is still sore from the water impact, think that will take a few days to sort, but otherwise feel fine.
The start tomorrow is at 8.30 am ..yikes..I need to fuel as well.

26th July 2013 - an eventful day

well...this didn't go according to plan.
I am making the news for all the wrong reasons.... a bad day.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-wales-south-west-wales-23469810

I arrived Neyland at 11 am just in time to see everyone in the challenge leaving. I still had to fuel the boat and stow kit so was taking my time. No intention to catch people up, and was going to take my time crossing to conserve fuel.
Set off at 2 pm, after launching at the Yacht Club, parking car and trailer etc . A little while later I am back at the Marina fetching the passport I had left behind ! Once again I set off down the Sound and past the tankers.

Passing the Supertankers in Milford Haven sound

Out of the sound I hit the overfalls .
Lumpy confused chop, not too dissimilar to conditions off Tynemouth in the North Sea, where I usually boat. It would smooth out, get lumpy again, smooth out etc etc.
I was transiting at around 14 to 28 knots depending on conditions and around 10 miles offshore at this point.






In seas like this you have to look 3 crests ahead plot your route etc etc. I had hit a smoother section and got the boat back up to 24 knots from 17.

30 minutes before my ejection, the handheld VHF is strapped into
my Lifejacket on the shoulder, but would disintegrate on impact with the water.

I had just checked the SOG on the plotter about 20 seconds before coming out of the boat. The crest that caught me out looked no different to those I had been crossing on the journey, except this had the mother of all holes on the other side.
I heard the outboard
surge and bark as the prop came clear of the water, and I saw more and more sea and less and less sky as the boat pitched forward, coming down off the crest, tipping to starboard and just falling, and I fell faster.

An unintentional shot taken just after the one above, but
crucially showing the Kill Cord attached to my leg.

The jockey seat wrenched out of the floor with the force. It was held in with 6 stainless steel dome head M8 bolts. The seat stayed in the boat, but I didn't and hit the water shoulder first. 
For the non boaters reading this - 24 knots is approx 28 mph....so imagine falling off a motorbike and you will get some idea! Kill cord worked instantly. As soon as I got above the surface I noticed it was wrapped tightly round my leg, so I started looking for the boat. After the disorientation and initial water swallowing, I pulled the inflator on my jacket. One of the first things my hand touched was the smashed back plate from my Entel Hand held Vhf which was floating free and not attched to the rest of the unit. The hand held was attached to the right shoulder of the lifejack in the velcro and webbing nest Baltic provide for it, aerial looped through a webbing pocket. It must have disintegrated when I hit the water as apart from that initial piece of plastic from the unit my hand touched I never saw any more bits or parts of it. My PLB - its a GME unit - was attached in to the webbing nest built into the harness of my jacket, I felt for it and it was there. First priority was firing it to let someone know what had happened. I looked at the RIB it seemd to be around 100 metres away from me in the water, but in reality I knew that distance would be further. I also was not going to be able to get to it with lifejacket inflated, just trying to get upright I was worried I would tip onto my face. My Gecko was still attached, I wore it throughout the rescue. Am sure it absorbed some of that initial contact with the water, and as time dragged on it kept my head warm. I fired up the PLB and lay back with it on my chest. It started beeping and flashing. Looked at my watch about 10 minutes after I had gone in, it was 3.45pm. I knew they take up to 30 mins to get a pass from a sat, but was concerned that the impact with the water had possibly damaged the unit. at 4.10pm the unit made a very short set of extended beeps, easy to miss with my Gecko on. This on reflection was the sound of the satellite transmit working (it was a GPS equipped unit) I had been in the water approx 30 mins at that point. The RIB would sometimes come closer and then 2 mins later would seem much further away. After an hour in the water , the temptation to try to get to the boat was massive. I knew it would mean deflating the bladders on the jacket, but I didnt want to let go of the PLB and swimming in the dry suit, jacket, gecko combo is nigh impossible. I floated around in circles, crossed my feet pulled in my arms to my sides. The inflated chambers of the jacket blocked a lot of peripheral view. My view was akin to telescope or gun barrel looking down the sides of the chambers, so to look for anything I had to paddle myself through 360 degrees. I saw a yacht around maybe 500 metres off, but couldnt attract its attention. Looked at my watch - it was 5.00 pm. In the water around 1 hr 25 minutes. The water was cold but sometimes my hands would feel really warm pockets and currents flowing through it - as hot as bath water - the gulfstream! The sun was shining, the swell was running at around 2 to 3 feet I would estimate. I looked at the watch again at 5.15 pm. I knew it was around one hour and 40 minutes since I had gone in. With no way of knowing if the PLB signal had been received, I was beginning to get just a little bit concerned. I could sometimes see the Echomax (radar reflector) on the A frame of the RIB over the swells, maybe 250 to 300 metres away. At 5.20 pm, when I was just starting to feel the chill and getting cramps in my legs, I let some of the air out of my jacket and contemplated getting myself somehow to the RIB. 
A few minutes after that I saw the funnel of the Irish Ferries ship, Isle of Innishmore, in the distance and then a short time later it seemed to be, maybe 500 to 800 metres behind my rib. Very shortly after that, I lifted the Gecko helmet away from my ear as I thought I could hear a helicopter, and seconds later definitely heard the SAR Helicopter from Chivenor before I saw it. 

Dangling under "Rescue 169" - a 22 squadron SAR Seaking, I am being winched up from the Irish Sea after 2 hours in the water. The picture was taken from the Irish Sea Ferries vessel - Isle of Inishmore

There was nothing in my view even though I could hear it, but then the sky seemed to fill with big yellow Seaking helicopter.
They positioned themseves round 20 metres off the water, hovering facing me. I made a signal to try to tell them just me (one) and pointed at myself as I expect they were looking for any additonal people in the water. They put the winchman/diver in and it all seemed a little surreal - two blokes both wearing lifejackets and helmets, up to their shoulders in water, about a metre apart facing each other in the Irish Sea, 10 miles from land ! He helped me into the sling and we winched up together. 15 secs later I was in the helo, looking down at all the pax on the Irish ferries boat enjoying the view. I asked the winchman to go back down to my RIB as soon as I was on the helo, they asked about injuries how I felt...I said I was fine, I have a massive dent in my pride but otherwise fine. They did seem a little surprised at this "winch back down" request, but they conferred with MHCG and then winched me back into my boat.
There was a Charter fishing Boat on scene then and he relayed from MHCG to ask about my intentions. I was contemplating keeping going to Kilmore quay until I saw the state of my seat, so I agreed to wait for St Davids lifeboat and followed that into Milford Haven, where the Angle lifeboat met me and went with me to Neyland. Apart from the seat, the Rib is fine. Apart from a big bruise on my shoulder, I am fine.

Looking a bit damp, 5 minutes previously I was being winched back down to Merlin, and now have agreed to take a crew member from St Davids Lifeboat aboard for the trip back to Milford Haven

I edge Merlin close in to the St Davids lifeboat for the transfer of a crew member

St Davids Lifeboat closes with Merlin.
Seeing this photo I am surprised how close I had drifted to  the Smalls Lighthouse

I was so cross with myself for the ejection. As I was going over in that split second, it was running through my mind, how am I going to explain this then !
I was disappointed about the VHF but in the circumstances of the impact, makes sense I guess. I would like PLB/EPIRB manufactures to install some way of bouncing back a signal to a beacon - some tell tale fool proof way / big red light or something, that is activated on your beacon when your distress signal is received or successfully transmitted. Another 10 or 15 minutes and I may have attempted to get back to the RIB with a poor result.
Big thanks to the Chivenor crew of Rescue 169 who I think were a little taken aback that I wanted to get back on the RIB as soon as they had picked me up, the St Davids and Angle crews for the escort and chat, and the Coastguard at Neyland for sorting a berth at the marina (and some fish and chips - hungry business this rescue stuff).
and yes I am lucky - and yes I love my boating kit.

As for the challenge - not done yet ... I need to try to repair the seat and I will continue.

thanks for ALL THE DONATIONS...brilliant.

25th July 2013

My alarm has just gone off and I havn't been to bed.
I watched the daylight creep under the blinds a few hours ago, so I knew exactly what I was doing. Not content with getting massively out of my comfort zone (and probably my ability zone if that is in fact a zone) by taking on the circumnavigation of Ireland in a 5 metre open boat, I obviously thought that no sleep will spice things up on this, the last day before departure.
Today - in strict chronological order, I must wake up - done that - catch two flights from Riga in Latvia to Newcastle in the UK, drive 40 miles to the storage space for my boat and trailer, hook it up to the Landrover and drive 420 miles to Milford Haven on the south western tip of Wales.
Right now I anticipate getting there around midnight.
On the 26th I will launch the boat, take it round to Neyland Marina, return the mile to the slipway by car/taxi/bike whatever and collect my car and trailer and bring them back to secure park at the marina.
At 11 am that morning, chocks away...sorry slip the lines, much more nautical, and head west to the south east corner of Ireland at Kilmore Quay, the official start line for the Round Ireland Rib challenge 2013. You see... all that effort, 80 miles across the open sea, 400 mile drive, just to get the start line!

As it turns out - my start from the North East is delayed and I tow through the night to make West Wales, taking a few cat naps along the way, but anticipation and excitement keep me going and I arrive in Milford Haven just as the flotilla departs, feeling reasonably ok and more concerned about launching by myself than by the solo passage.

Sitting on the trailer in Swansea Services, its 09.30 am on the 26th, I realise I wont make the official start time for the "feeder" crossing to Kilmore Quay for tomorrow's start.

It always puzzles me how big the boat looks in these pics, but its less than 5 metres long, under 17 feet in old money!