Man Overboard!

True tale of my 2015 near-drowning incident caused by an inept and totally incompetent Towboat US 'rescue' boat operator from Fort Pierce, Florida.

Two experienced sailors and I had inspected, prepped, fuelled, watered and provisioned 'Eclipse', a 1978 DownEaster 38' cutter built in Santa Ana, California, prior to leaving Fort Lauderdale, Florida for Bermuda and... the very day before we were due to sail, I received a separate email from each of them informing me their respective wives had told them they were not allowed to go.

Despite my better judgement… sailing solo is dangerous and no fun, I did not change my plans, informed my retired old sea dog of a sea captain next-door neighbour I was going, he wished me luck and I cast off into the wild blue yonder.

Nine mostly uneventful days with one-hour naps on deck at night, navigating with a handheld GPS plugged into a MacBook Pro and several pods of dolphins later, I was happily anchored in St. George’s.

The only mishap along the way, the ProFurl roller furling on the fore-stay disconnected itself from the bowsprit and became an extremely dangerous flying foresail. After battling and man-handling it down, I was able to rig an old working hank-on jib as a spinnaker which worked fine when there was wind, which was not all that often.

On this voyage, I once again proceeded to uphold my title, 'The World’s Worst Fisherman' as, despite towing a line and regularly changing lures for nine days, not a single piscean specimen was brought on board.

Upon arrival, clearing customs and immigration was painless and, other than the customs official attempting to return a seriously lethal firearm to me, prior to departure, as opposed to the two emergency flare guns I had declared, tagged, bagged and handed in, Bermuda was absolute pure pleasure and, three weeks later, altho' looking for and failing to find crew, I again departed solo.

And the nightmare begins...

Despite filling the boat fuel tank up with diesel two days before departure, plus an additional six extra five-gallon cans stowed and tied on the foredeck under the dinghy, I ran out of fuel, around midnight approx. fifteen miles off the coast of Florida – in the Gulf Stream.

I had motored most of the way back as, no matter which direction I headed, the wind was continually switching against me or, there was no wind whatsoever... and the gauge, no longer trusted, showed I still had fuel. Eclipse was then being carried north by the Stream and, at last, the wind, at approx. four miles an hour and my mobile phone was out of range and had no signal.

I radioed the Coast Guard in Miami, explained the situation and informed them no lives were in danger and, as a member of BoatUS, asked them to please be so good as to contact TowBoatUS. The Coast Guard kindly did as requested and continually called me to monitor and update my GPS position.

By 3:00 AM, the Stream had become very 'lumpy' and Eclipse was rocking 'n' rolling from side to side. I left the main hoisted to combat the roll and switched on the spreader lights and a flashing strobe on the mast-head in order to better be seen.

Captain Larry Blanchett, of Fort Pierce/Vero Beach TowBoatUS, sent out a power boat from Fort Pierce and, despite having given its operator my ever-changing GPS coordinates, he radioed me to ask if mine was the boat lit up like a Christmas tree.

As no other boats were visible, I’d say that was a pretty good guess on his part.

He arrived, not wearing a buoyancy flotation device, there were none on board (so much for safety at sea), with two 5 gallon plastic cans of diesel which were floated across to me attached to a line but, as bad luck would have it, the starter on the Volvo Penta MD40 decided this was the perfect moment to quit... and did so.

As I could not start the engine, my 'rescuer' offered to tow me in to port. A hefty tow rope was heaved across and made fast. I asked my 'rescuer' not to start towing 'til I had taken down the mainsail and dowsed the lights but, as I was about to do so, he pulled away at an incredible rate of knots that literally flipped me backwards overboard – snapping my lifeline in the process and also ripping the towing harness contraption out of the bottom of his boat.

I found myself floating, in shorts a T-shirt and a now useless safety harness, drifting north in the swells… without a light, radio or life-jacket and Eclipse was last seen fast disappearing over the horizon in a northerly direction while the towboat operator was figuring what (damage ?) he could do next.

Knowing he couldn't see me in the dark and would never hear me once he re-started his engine, I shouted as loud as I could while treading water and waving. After about ten minutes, I was able to attract his attention, swim over and clamber into his semi self-destroyed vessel... the engine of which was literally dead in the water.

I was safely aboard and, with neither towel nor blanket to hand, was shivering uncontrollably when he radioed home base to advise of the situation and request two more towboats be sent... one for Eclipse and another for his now 'lame duck'.

He was informed, "You’re on your own, we have no more boats here."

However, a second Towboat US vessel was later dispatched from Vero Beach to search for Eclipse and, with more luck than judgement, my 'rescuer' was finally able to restart his engine but, as we limped slowly back to shore, he stopped along the way every so often to throw up (nerves / seasick ?).

Once on terra firma, neither dry clothes nor hot meal were offered but I was checked into a cheap motel, which I later paid for, where I spent two or more hours soaking in a very hot bath to thaw out as, despite the Gulf Stream being warm, I was frozen and shaking... (delayed shock ?).

Meanwhile, thanks to the still-set mainsail and all the lights left on, the second rescue crew had finally spotted Eclipse approx. twenty-five miles offshore and towed her in to port where we were joyfully reunited.

The next day I had yet another ordeal to surmount... dealing with the local boat mechanic who knew nothing about starter motors! The so-called mechanic sent the motor out of state for repair, which meant a one-week wait and, in addition, in usual Floridian manner, he was good enough to charge me his hourly rate for doing so.

On leaving Fort Pierce, and again due to an 'on-the-nose' prevailing south east wind, I had to motor... one hundred and ten miles or more home, navigating by knot meter as I used the old sailor's trick of skirting along the eddies at the western edge of the Gulf Stream and, to once more prove a point, no fish were apprehended along the way.

Upon my reporting the incident to Boat U.S., they magnanimously, and possibly as a peace offering (or proof I was never a member and they were therefore neither liable nor responsible for damages, physical or mental, done), refunded the $24.00 cost of my annual membership.

Tho' Eclipse was insured (through Boat US), a claim never crossed my mind.

Happy sails to you .....

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