We knew a storm was in the offing. We were living aboard ‘Bolero’ a Moody 376 sailing yacht, in the marina at Les Sables d’Olonne on the west coast of France

But our minds were full of two other things as we approached the “New Millenium”.
One was the much advertised ‘Millenium Bug’ which was possibly going to return all clocks to zero, and render unusable all the navigation instruments on which we had come to rely…… The other was the ‘Mare Noire’ (Black sea). A few days earlier, the oil tanker ‘Erika’ had sunk of the west coast of France, spewing oil into the sea and onto the coastline. We had volunteered for duty searching the rocky shore for oil-damaged birds, equipped with huge gauntlets and cardboard animal carriers, and our trusty Brompton bikes.

Now, as the wind began to strengthen, as a precaution, we doubled up all the shorelines on the boat. The wind was getting up and there was an air of worried anticipation everywhere.

We took a walk to the end of the pier…or as far as we could get …..mountainous seas were breaking over the famous wall, from alongside which the sailors in the Vendee Globe Solo Circumnavigation Races, leave and return.

The impending storm took over as the prime the topic of conversation…. but our coffee break in a favourite bar was spoiled by an electricity cut….. We returned to the boat for an early meal…. ‘In case it gets too difficult to cook later on’

At seven pm, as we were finishing the washing up, there was a crash and the boat heeled hard to port.

Donning wet gear, we dashed on deck to find that we, and several hundred other boats were being flattened by the strongest wind that we had ever experiended, either at sea or in port. The port rails were in danger of being trapped under the pontoon… the likely consequence being holing the hull and then sinking.

For two hours, I was on the deck and Dave on the pontoon, both trying to get fenders in place to protect the hull. My shouts of ‘Mind your hands’…. became … ‘mind your arms’… then ‘mind your legs’ … as the wind and waves got bigger and stronger.

Then at nine pm, came another even louder crack. Looking up, I saw that all the boats on the opposite side of the pontoon (none of them occupied) were drifting away towards to sea, along with their sturdy pontoons.

Dashing below, I called the ‘Capitanerie’ on the radio, to report this latest calamity. (It had not ocurred to us to call for help for ourselves and our own boat)

Within minutes the heaving pontoon was swarming with strong young men. They tried in vain to rescue the drifting boats and gave up, and turned their attention to us and our predicament. What a relief!

Extra long lines and chains were brought to secure our boat and the pontoon to the shore. But then as bits of masts and radars started flying around, M. Jean Archambaud, the Port Captain, declared the marina a ‘No Go Area’ and we were taken ashore by strong hands, leaving our beloved home to the mercy of the storm.

Only two boats were occupied that night… the couple on the other one quickly left to stay with friends and we were offered a bed aboard the lifeboat alongside the sea wall. We politely refused as we thought it likely that it might be called out… but we were given bedding from it and put into ‘the clubhouse’ for safety. (Indeed, there was a ‘shout’ at midnight and the lifeboat was out all night)

Our refuge was a glass walled octagonal building. We spent eight cold wet terrifying hours in it, watching chimneys, trees, TV aerials etc etc, flying by…. then at daybreak, with the wind now down to just a gale force eight…. we dared to creep outside and go to see how ‘Bolero’ had fared.

Amazingly, she was afloat, with only one broken stanchion to show for her night of horror. We had really feared to worst, and had expected to see mooring lines leading down to her watery grave!

Elsewhere was total devastation

Dozens of large yachts and their accompanying pontoons had been washed away… mostly landing in untidy heaps on the other side of the marina, where the Vendee Globe yachts line up so proudly every four years before their circumnavigations.

Most of the boats lined up on the hardstanding were flattened, telephone lines were all down. Trees were uprooted. Chimneys and roofs were gone. Boats were sunk. Cars were overturned.

Once the storm had abated, we became aware of just how fortunate we had been. The strongest wind of the storm had been recorded just south of us at Oleron. At nearby La Rochelle, pontoons and boats were washed ashore where they demolished the marina headquarters, with great loss of life.

In the aftermath, we were the fortunate ones. On land, there were no telephones, electricity or water supplies for days… but we were self sufficient. We had solar power, a wind generator, a diesel generator, full water tanks and a boat full of food. And a mobile phone charged from an inverter.

We were happy to try to repay our saviours from the storm, as they endeavoured to sort out their broken marina, by providing cups of coffee and snacks all day.

By December 28th, the folk were getting their acts together, fallen trees were sawn up and roads were cleared. People were on the move again. We had many visits from local people, offering accommodation, washing facilities, drying rooms, meals, etc etc.

The best invite of all was from former neighbours in the marina the previous summer…. they asked us to join them for their fabulous millenium meal…. Twenty people at table for a feast that lasted 48 hours!

Ten years on… and it all seems like yesterday!

On a day when all the rest of news is sad or bad, it is great to hear some good news for once.

This Newfoundland is being trained to rescue people from the sea in Swansea.

The picture came from the Daily Mail and you can read more about this Super-Dog here

Because of them, we have not taken our dog for a run on the beach at Llanelli.… She refuses point blank to go out in the rain.

There have been several reports of ‘hazardous’ findings on many beaches between Cefn Sidan and Rhossilli over the weekend.

Some are said to be packages with ‘Spanish words’ on them.

There are many people in the area who speak Spanish, so one has to wonder why, in a city with two universities, they were not translated and identified even as soon as they were reported?

Our dog neither speaks nor reads Spanish, and I suspect that most other dogs don’t either….. so I hope somebody will tell us soon what is in these ‘hazardous’ packages…

Happily, all the people on board were saved and transferred to dry land without loss of life and, it would appear, without injury, thanks to the speedy response of other vessels in the area and to the magnificent maritime communications which exist today, which were not in place when the ‘Titanic’ was lost.

It is very sad to see a ship go down, even when all its crew and passengers have been saved.

Fortunately, a comprehensive network of rescue activities swung quickly into action, and the experience and expertise of the Captain and crew played a huge part in the safe transfer of everyone on board to the relative safety of the ship’s lifeboats, where they would have had a cold and not very comfortable wait for rescue, despite the fact that the both weather and therefore the sea were comparatively calm.

Meanwhile.………At the other end of the world, three people accepted delivery of a cabin cruiser. They appeared to have no understanding of how it functioned.

Reportedly lacking in any experience or training, they decided to set out to sea from Whitby Harbour in Yorkshire in a force eight (Gale) wind and with seas running at 20m high.

Theirs was the only boat to leave the harbour that day.

They were warned that it was too dangerous.

They were called three times on the radio from the lifeboat station as they left, to try to prevent their exit.

The boat capsized just outside the harbour and it took the bravery of the local lifeboat men and the helicopter service to fetch the two men and one woman from the sea.

All three died.

Why do some people have so little respect for the sea?

Just because Britain historically regards itself as ‘a seafaring nation’, it doesn’t mean that all knowledge of navigation, boat handling, safety procedures, radio etiquette, radio operation, engine operation and maintenance and sailing skills are automatically passed down through the genes. You have to learn it!

We really loved our sailing years. However, we ensured that not only was our boat always maintained to the very highest standard, we also made it our business to be well versed in all the skills and requirements needed to keep us safe, in the hope that we would never need to call on the emergency services.

The RNLI, HM Coastguard etc are there for just that,….EMERGENCY.

On our travels, we came across a frightening number of ‘sailors’ who had not attempted to learn how to sail, had not bothered with RYA navigation classes, had not maintained their craft as it deserved, had not realised the changes in tides and currents at different times, and did not even know how to understand shipping forecasts…. around the UK, let alone in foreign waters.

Two very different kinds of disaster, with very different causes…. but the message is the same: Respect the sea. Understand weather systems. Be aware of the results of climate change’.

At that time, we did not have TV, but the graphic photographs in the newspapers, and the Pathe News coverage at the local cinema gave a vivid and lasting record, in my mind’s memory at least, of a terrible tragedy.

In another life, when I studied, and even later taught, navigation, the phenomenon of the combined results of strong winds and spring tides on that occasion were often quoted.

These days, we hear a lot about ‘Global Warming’

Tonight we have a reported surge of at least 3m of water coming down from the North Sea. We are one day shy of one of the highest spring tides.

High winds are forecast.

Eight Severe flood warnings have been issued.
Perhaps the greatest differences from 1953 are:

1 That we have far better communications these days, and advance warnings.

2 The Prime Minister is in conference in COBRA and everything that can be done should be well supervised with clear advance information

3 We have the Thames Barrier which is to be closed at 2000 hours tonight.

For those who were not around in 1953 and maybe think it was akin to the dreadful flooding experienced earlier this year ( when we, ourselves were too close for comfort), there is coverage here.

Good Luck tonight, people of the East Coast, we are thinking of you.
At least you are forewarned this time!

I was young when it was launched…having just started my higher education course.

I was really only aware of the Hype …strange music… ash trays in cylindrical forms. … strange coffee tables…

Later I was to benefit from its offspring.. GPS navigation systems which helped me to sail to far flung harbours… and indeed to drive my motor home to diverse postcodes these days!

So….. Cheers Sputnik!

When I am feeling a bit nostalgic, I occasionally turn to the ‘Costa Blanca News’, an English language newspaper published on Fridays in Spain. It was from this week’s paper that the names of Peter & Teresa Cunliffe leapt from the screen at me.

Until two years ago we lived on our sailing boat, ‘Bolero’ in the Puerto Deportivo at Guardamar Del Segura on the Costa Blanca. It was here that we met the Cunliffes. Indeed, we went to their housewarming party when they moved into their new home in Castalla.

Clearly, the people they met in Guatemala have made a big impact on them. I quote from the ‘Costa Blanca News, Sept 27th 2007:

“Brits touched by plight of Guatemala village

By Dave Jones
COSTA Blanca residents Peter and Teresa Cunliffe have launched an appeal to help the inhabitants of a remote jungle village in the impoverished Central American republic of Guatemala.

The couple, who live in Castalla, discovered the hamlet by chance as they were exploring the vast Río Dulce near the country’s Caribbean coast earlier this year.

The Cunliffes were scouting a tributary of the river in their 38-foot boat Sonatina when they came across a group of children in canoes at tiny Lagunita Salvador.

After spending several weeks with the villagers who live without a source of drinking water and on a restricted diet, the couple decided they had to do more to help them become self-sufficient.

“We fell in love with the children and we wanted to do something for this lovely village which is not getting any help,” said Peter, a retired garage owner from Blackpool.

While the Cunliffes were staying at the hamlet, they discovered that the 20 families had arrived after being displaced during the 36-year civil war which ended in 1996.

One man, Álvaro, had witnessed his parents’ murder by an Army death squad when he was just 12 years old.

However, with the aid of American missionaries they had built a school and church, although funding from abroad has now dried up.

“We are currently raising money for a dozen or more projects from providing clear drinking water to paying teachers wages,” Peter explained.

“This year only one of the teachers’ wages has been paid.

“When the children started at the school they only spoke the Indian language Qeqchi.

“Now they have learned Spanish and they are teaching them maths and other subjects.

“We don’t want them to lose this.”

The Cunliffes are currently sponsoring five children to go to school and have also forked out for infrastructure projects as well as financing a scheme to start a fish farm.

“We are doing this all on our own and at times find it incredibly hard work and even depressing when giving a talk about the village school and the only reply to us was ‘why do kids in the jungle need to learn maths?’” said Teresa.

“That’s the opposition we’ve been getting but on the other hand we’ve had a lot of generous people who have given as much as £350 per person.

“Now we need to raise £1,000 as quickly as possible to help them purchase a boat and outboard motor and will need £5,500 for next year to keep the school open.”

The couple are heading back out to Guatemala in January and are trying to raise as much cash as possible before they go.

“We need donations but we also need people to organise fund-raising events and set up a website and put up posters for example,” said Teresa.

They are raising money through a raffle for an MZ Simpson 50cc motorbike and a Halloween fun day which will be held in Calle Río Nácera, Castalla International on October 31.

Anyone who can help out can contact the couple on 0034 697 985 882 (Spain) or at ptsonatina@aol.com ”

So…. anyone who is touched by the plight of these people, and would like to offer help, is welcome to get in touch with Peter & Teresa Cunliffe ….. and if you do, please tell them you heard about them via this post!

We first heard about it on the BBC World Service at 0800 hours. I think it registered about 7 on the Richter Scale. Spanish boatowners on our pontoon told us about it too.

Then on the Spanish TV News, we saw video of bewildered Menorcan waiters scratching their heads and trying to understand why their beachside terraces were underwater and their kitchens flooded. This was not something they were accustomed to as there are no effective tides in the Mediterranean.
We began to wonder just how far reaching the repercussions would be and we did not have to wait long. That afternoon, the level of the water in our marina dropped by one and a half metres, very suddenly, leaving the boat straining on her sternlines…. just a bit scary as we didn’t know what would happen next.

Would there be a wave of water, (tsunami) trapping boats under pontoons? Or would it be an even bigger surge throwing the boat onto the top of the concrete walkway, or onto other boats? We kept a lookout and constantly checked the mooring lines, but thankfully, the water only gradually reverted to its usual level. We happenned to be entertaining landlubber friends on board that day, and they wondered what all the fuss was about.
We later heard about a young couple on their small boat, moored on a pontoon in Torrevieja, some 20 km south of us. When the water level dropped dramatically and they saw the quay high above them, they rushed below, thinking they were sinking. They started ripping up floorboards to find where the leak might be. Finding no water in the bilges, they decided that discretion was the better part…etc, and leapt onto the deck of the much bigger boat alongside them. It was only then that they realised that this boat, too, was very much lower in the water than usual, and the problem was not a leak in their boat at all, but rather one in the sea bed.

About three months later, we met a couple who had been much nearer to that earthquake than we were. They were on passage to Algeria, and unknowingly heading for the very epicentre. Because it was dark and the pilot book had strongly advised against a night entry, they decided to anchor some ten miles further East. As they approached the anchorage, both masts of their ketch started to shake violently, and the sea became huge, despite the lack of wind, convincing them that they had run aground on some uncharted rocks. When things quietened down, they anchored and had a safe but rather sleepless night. It was only later that they found out about the earthquake and how close to disaster they had come.

The world was to learn about ‘tsunami’ later, to its cost, but the reason that we were so worried that day was that we were already horribly aware of the dangers, having studied the subject when doing our RYA Ocean Yachtmasters’ Certificates.

We were lucky that although we experienced the sudden depletion of water, the small tsunami surge showed itself in the Balearics and not on the mainland coast of Spain. We are so accustomed in the UK to being able to predict exactly how fast the tides will be flowing and in exactly which direction at any given time (with allowances built in for weather conditions), that it can come as a complete shock when water behaves in a way which so unlike a tide.

Whilst we were preparing our boat for the retirement trip to the Med., we were in the process of having her dragged out of the water for the annual scrubbing of the bottom and the ritual application of antifouling paint.

Unfortunately something went a bit wrong and I received a nasty injury to my right index finger which obviously needed surgery to save it. We both agreed that I should accept the offer from a friend to drive me to the local A & E department, whilst Dave got on with the antifouling as the lift back into the marina had been booked for the same evening.

Medical opinion at Singleton Hospital A & E centre was that micro- surgery at another hospital was necessary so I was whisked across the city in an ambulance.

Later that evening, and after several phone calls, each describing my condition as: ‘Comfortable’, or ‘In theatre’, or ‘In recovery’, an exhausted Dave (who had done all the taxing work which we would normally have shared) arrived at the hospital to see me,

At reception he was met by a sad faced young nurse who told him ‘I’m afraid your wife has taken a turn for the worse. Her condition is critical’.

Puzzled and frantic, he hurried along behind her to be shown into a private room where the very sick incumbent was almost hidden under a sheet.

Then the poor sick lady was revealed and he didn’t know
whether to laugh or cry for the lady in the bed was at least 95 years old, and clearly dreadfully ill.

“That’s not my wife!”, he cried, and it was the turn of the poor young nurse to be horrified at her mistake.

It was a very relieved husband who later found me sitting up in bed, right arm suspended from the metal contraption beside me, and eating a piece of quiche (left handed) which I gladly shared with him, as neither of us had had time to eat anything that day.

Thanks to the micro surgeons at Morriston Hospital, I recovered to sail another day……… though someone in the Yacht Club was heard to remark that people will go to ridiculous lengths to avoid having to do the antifouling

It was certainly that….. very well written and a first hand account of the hard life on board the huge sailing boats which used to carry grain from Australia to Britain before the Second World War. It was ‘The Last Grain Race’ written by Eric Newby

The star of the book was the Mosholu, a four masted steel barque, on which the writer served and which he described with fascinating attention to detail.

The spooky bit only jumped out of the pages as I neared the end of the book. It described the last of the great grain races which, under sail took half a year to complete, to land a cargo of Australian grain in the British Isles, thereby securing not only the prestige, but also the best price.

The race was won by Mosholu. She left Australia on December 31st 1938…. The very day and year that my husband Dave was born. More spooky still was the fact that she arrived at Kinsale on 20th June 1939… the very day when I was born.

More was to come!

I had enjoyed the book so much that I loaned it to my father to read. He too, thoroughly enjoyed it and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to prickle when he saw those dates.

But he had an epilogue to add…..

The boat that came second in that race was the ‘Persea’.

Three or four years before the events in the book, she had been docked in Liverpool, where my father was living. Young single and adventurous, he had stowed away under a tarpaulin on the deck of the Persea for two days, hoping for adventure, but was disappointed to be caught and sent packing just before she sailed from port.

Now… Had he been successful in his attempt to find adventure, he would not have met and married my mother and ergo, would not have fathered me…. and so the coincidence would have been immaterial.

By the way, I no longer have the book.

I loaned it to somebody in an RYA Day Skipper or Yachtmaster Navigation Class at Swansea Yacht & Sub Aqua Club in or about 1995 or 1996 .

If the borrower should chance to read this…..?? Please contact me via this page!