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YOU always take risks at sea - but most long distance sailors try to minllnise them; they check out their boat, gain as much experience as possible, and always watch the weather. Having done our homework, we felt we were ready. We trusted the seagoing capabilities of our 10 metre yacht Nehan and sailed thousands of ocean miles in the previous eight years. But, of course, there are some things you simply can't prepare for.
We'd already heard stories of cargo ships arriving in port with fragments of yacht rigging hanging off their bow - but you never think it will happen to you. One of our friends only carried a life raft after she was scraped by a tanker in the Indian Ocean. Having said all that, we were aware of the dangers.
So, when the horizon sparkled with an armada of lights, I put a call out on the radio, announcing our position and heading. Mter several attempts we received one disembodied reply. The voice explained that the fishing fleet would stop for the night and drift. At day break, the ships would deploy their nets and drag, in search of squid. I hoped the fleet would be far behind us before sunrise. First he said we gave a good radar return, and then changed his mind. Blackness fell each time we slid down the waves. It would be a long and anxious night. A 31ft foot cruiser is no match for a 100 metre steel trawler, let alone a whole leet of them. Particularly on a cold, dark and windy night. The best tactic is to keep clear. But a galaxy of lights surrounded us and we had no choice but to sail through the entire 50 boat fleet. Mass congregations are common "lith the trawling fishing boats. Although their impact is devastating, "pack trawling" is a common way of catching squid and other types of fish that congregate to spawn. Such background information was of little concern at the time however; we were too busy concentrating. Actually, we were lucky to come upon them at night; moving boats are even more dangerous. Cocooned in layers of duofold, polypropylene and wool and sheathed by a heavy nylon jacket to break the wind and the spray, Joe took the first watch. He sat stiffly, tucked beneath the dodger and watched cautiously from the cockpit. A handful of ships drifted to the east. There were a few to the west and a scattering of lights to the north and south.
Our departure from the sub-antarctic Auckland Islands had been delayed while a series of strong fronts marched slowly past. On February 22, a break in the weather looked promising so we left these desolate islands hoping to make it to Stewart Island before the next system arrived. The wind speed had eased throughout the day but a heavy swell persisted and rolled the boat violently. To prevent the severe motion from gybing the double-reefed mainsail, we lashed the boom to the starboard rail. We were making fme progress, reaching along at 6.5 knots, conditions continuing to improve as our latitude decreased. Everything had been going so well. . .
Sunrise was two hours away and it looked as though we would clear the group before dawn. We counted 42 ships and could fmally see a dark horizon ahead. Then the unexpected happened. A set of lights to the westseemed to change position. Or did they? We were moving along in forty knots of westerly wind on a northerly course. Was the big ship moving? It To be continued... |
