Chilly Blokes

Things always happen at awkward moments. Time and time again, just as you're handing out the coffees, something occurs that requires your immediate attention. No doubt Captain Bell was being handed a Jammy Dodger and a cup of coffee when the first shell from Graf Spee slammed in, and I'm pretty sure a Cornish pasty went under the grill on the Titanic seconds before she tore herself apart.

So it was for Ian, Brian, Keith and myself on Sea Holly. We were tootling south out of Fareham under a heavily reefed Genoa. The drinks were being handed out and sausage rolls warming, when from abeam the port side a shout of 'Ahoy' drifted over the water. I hadn't realised that people actually say Ahoy outside of Gilbert and Sullivan musicals but it did the job of attracting our attention and the four of us identified the source as three heads bobbing about in the water near a capsized tender they'd been rowing ashore.

As luck would have it, six days previously, I'd completed the 'First Aid for Yachtsmen' course required for the Coastal Skipper Exam. I remembered that you can die in 3-5 minutes in water at 5 degrees (although a few winter/spring swims have proven this to be a little pessimistic). With this in mind I called over to ask if they had wetsuits on and when we got the reply 'No' it was clear to all that fairly fast action was required.

By now we were past them and Ian suggested putting the engine on, furling the Genoa and getting ready to head back into wind to get to them. After Brian and I spent a bit of time untangling the kite halyard from the genoa we furled it and turned back under motor. Ian made an unsuccessful attempt to contact the coastguard on the VHF before Brian used the 'less reliable' GSM mobile to call 999, which did the trick.

The casualties had now been blown onto a pontoon rigged between two piles and had come to rest on the opposite side of it. The only evidence of this was six sets of white fingers clinging to the edge. A simple addition followed by a division by two revealed that there were, indeed, three conscious casualties.

The course of action was clear. Under Ian's instructions the minimum number of fenders were rigged along with stern and bow lines. We moored fairly quickly. I hopped off & made the stern line fast and sprinted along the pontoon to see what could be done while the other three handled the boat.

The three fairly chilly individuals seemed quite pleased to see us. Two were fairly communicative and insisted that their mate was pulled out first. (That's not strictly true - they actually insisted their weekend bags were pulled out first, followed by their friend. I complied.) I made it clear there was no way I could pull anyone out unless they could do the bulk of the work themselves. With a little verbal encouragement the first casualty was able to pull himself out of the water to the point where I could reach the waistband of his jeans and slide him over onto the pontoon. In fact this proved a very efficient way to do the job for all three and we didn't have to resort to the spinnie halyard and winch. Just as well - that morning I'd helped winch Jerry up his mast and it really brought home how slow the process is. Acceptable for one casualty who isn't being slammed against the boat by a big sea but with three casualties with minutes of consciousness left it would be painfully time consuming.

I'm not sure if it's good practice or not but on reflection using the lesser purchase of the mainsheet and blocks for the lift and the boom supported by the topping lift as a crane arm might give a quicker lift.

Once the first casualty was on the pontoon he was able to stand and I simply suggested he run down to the boat ASAP, get inside and get his wet clothes off. The other two were fished out using the same patented waistband technique and I walked down to the boat with them. One in perfect shape the second a little quiet.

Treatment once on board consisted of the offer of sleeping bags and a towel. There was some discussion about hot drinks - I seemed to recall hot drink are not helpful in cases of hypothermia, and may do harm, so we didn't risk it. I noticed the worst casualty was shivering badly which I remembered as being a very good sign; if you've still got energy spare to shiver you aren't very far gone. None the less, the willingness of the three to accept help that involved stripping naked in a strange boat suggested they were well aware of the seriousness of the situation and the danger of not sensibly, and steadily, warming up.

The coast guard (on the mobile) asked about the casualty's condition. With the symptoms of the various stages of hypothermia already forgotten the most accurate way of conveying their condition seemed to be to simply give the time they'd been in the water and hope the coast guard would be able to guess what to expect from this. (This technique was vindicated later when I noticed the MOD policeman do exactly the same when presented with questions the same ambiguous symptoms.)

By this time the coast guard helicopter had been circling us low for some time and a MOD police launch had arrived. Under Ian's instruction the crew of Sea Holly stayed out of the way while the casualties were transferred to the police launch, apart from a delegation sent to negotiate the return of the sleeping bags.

That, for Sea Holly, is where the drama ended. Brian showed superhuman strength dragging the tender out of the water; we heard that two of the three had been hospitalised with Hypothermia; the third was returned to land clad only in an MOD blanket; the helicopter went on to do a practice lift off a volunteer yacht; the crew of Sea Holly settled down to sausage rolls and cider. Happily during the rescue, skipper, Ian, had the presence of mind to

a) Prevent a clumsy crewmember (me) upsetting his drink

b) Turn the grill off

so we were able to enjoy a quiet lunch.

For me the highlight of the incident was Ian's deliberately understated log entry. "12:29: Saved three; had lunch". As the bard of Avon said: "men of few words are the best men". ;-)

Lessons learned:

1) We've all overloaded a tender. Might be worth listening to that nagging inner voice, especially in winter or spring.

2) Inflatable tenders may be a pain to inflate, but they don't sink if they get swamped!

3) These lads had a buoyancy aid in a bag. A buoyancy aid may not be critically useful to someone with exposure but it's no use at all in a bag!!!

4) This all occurred apparently within swimming distance of shore yet they were incapable of making the swim. It seems the theory that cold water saps your strength very quickly is correct.

5) The pontoon was parallel with the wind. If we'd realised the three were going to end up on the pontoon we could have simply reached over to the pontoon and moored in under sail head to wind. Maybe using the engine isn't always the quickest way to get there?

Skipper's View

1) I was in the companionway when the incident started and, being nearest the radio, I went below to make the radio call. I should not have done so. I should have taken the helm straight away, not because I can steer better but because the helm is the best place to see what is going on and appraise the situation.

2) I called Solent Coastguard on Channel 16, with "urgency traffic". I should have made a mayday. We would still have made the 999 call as we could not hear the coastguard due to a carrier on channel 16 but it would have given them vital information about the incident before we made the 999 call. It may also have alerted the police launch or other nearby craft.

3) The small points can become important when things start to go wrong. The spinnaker halyard should have been taken off the pulpit. It was not, because of a misunderstanding between me and one of the crew as we were getting the boat ready that morning. We always try to ensure that the Sea Holly is ready for sea before leaving the berth. I should have checked.

4) We all realised the importance of getting the casualties out of the water as soon as possible, but the approach to the pontoon was rushed and unseaman-like. Mark did a good job getting ashore, making the stern line fast and getting to the casualties but we did not have a bow line on and in the conditions it took time to make the boat properly secure.

5) I know that hypothermia casualties should be kept horizontal but it did not occur to me at the time. I think that I was expecting the rescue vessel to arrive sooner but it was probably about 10 minutes before it arrived.

6) Despite the problems, we could not have got the casualties out of the water and to medical attention much quicker. There were few other boats in that part of the harbour and the result could have been very much worse.

Mark Hitchin & Ian Sandell