swamped canoe to sail closer to the others and failing at both I decided to continue out of the race in the expectation that calmer conditions would be found at the end of the channel; which they were. The canoes still sailed well enough swamped, which was reassuring. What a ride; I didn’t feel afraid but exhilarated! I don't have any recollection of actually seeing the famous Needles or its lighthouse so concentrated on navigating the channel. I do remember a number of sailing yachts beating into the channel and feeling a little envious of the crew sitting on the windward side, their legs dangling high over the water: They must have thought us mad; I'm not sure they were wrong.
The following seas were as large as I have ever sailed in. I found it better not to look behind.
With tiny sail areas we were flying along. I felt slightly anxious in case the seas got larger. Occasionally bigger sets of waves, occasionally breaking, came through but thankfully the sea state didn’t increase. It took quite a lot of concentration to balance the boat in the large following seas. I sailed with the rudder stick and sheet in one hand with the other hand on the gunnel to steady myself. It reminded me of when I used to horse ride; the reins held in one hand and a slightly unpredictable beast beneath!
As we passed St Catherine’s point even this far out I hit a whirlpool of swirling currents, which had me totally unbalanced for a second or two. As soon as we passed that point the character of the sea changed, becoming calmer. We headed Northeast on a more comfortable point of sail at a fast clip with the spring tide pushing us along. We reached the second tidal gate at Bembridge with an hour to spare; the conditions were even kinder on the east side of the Island. There was not much shipping about and we could take time to open a dry bag and grab a sandwich. I found that my sandwiches which I had placed at the top of the drybag had got soaked during the swamping. I was also worried that the sleeping bag, which I might have to use somewhere later that night, had taken a dosing too.
Later, as we tracked round to a North West direction and came into the Solent, it got a lot busier. We were sailing closer to the wind and the Solent started to get more and more choppy; short, steep waves created by the wind over tide and less than a metre high were endlessly breaking over my canoe and sending an inch deep waterfall off the back of my fore deck into my canoe. My electric pump ran continuously, which checked the level of the deluge, until it inevitably ran out. It was onto the hand baler; a 2 litre scoop from an optimist, it wasn't really big enough. I had a ten litre bucket but that needed two hands to use, which meant I could only use it when I wasn't sailing. We were beating close to the shore which gave protection from the worst of the chop, but as we sailed past Ryde we had to sail out into the main channel to pass around its pier; this meant sailing into rougher water. Once we passed that, we sailed through the middle of a fleet of racing yachts on Ryde Road, their wash swamping my canoe. Over the radio we decided to land, necessitating a starboard tack: with my swamped canoe I could tack but not make headway. No matter how much I turned the canoe into the tack it was simply stalling, being pushed sideways or being pointed into the wind. Bailing couldn’t match the water coming in and even if I made a little progress, another wave or the wake from another passing yacht swamped me again and again. I kept trying to sail and bail, but wasn’t making progress. I started to run out of ideas: This was unlike the swamping experienced at the start of the trip: I couldn't seem to make the boat sail.
Eventually Gavin and the others sailed back from nearer the shoreline and with a bit of moral support I seemed to get my mojo back. I got the water level down with my bucket and slowly got the canoe sailing again toward the shoreline. I counted out 20 scoops with my small baler, rested for 60 seconds then 20 more scoops of my baler; I started to win the battle and the water level started to drop. The waves decreased as I got closer to the shore. The nightmare was over.
A broad reach offshore along the south coast of the Isle of Wight.
Credit: Leidenhosen
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