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!