A Fearful Passage: Anne Marie Nielson

from Women Who Sail Australia Issue 2 2021

SV Rhona H: Julie Porter

A Fearf ul Passage

By Anne Marie Nielson

I am asleep below, it is midnight. What is it about midnight? I am seasick as usual. I wake up to a strange slap on the hull, husband yelling, and then that ominous sound of water coming into the boat. I last heard that at midnight on this same stretch of water between Coffs Harbour and the Gold Coast, that stretch of water without safe anchorages unless there is no wind. There is wind...

I get up and ask husband what is wrong. “The foresail sheet came loose. I think it’s caught in the prop”, was the tense reply. I vomit over the side then gulp and calm my fear, he is mega stressed, I won’t tell him about the water coming into the boat – yet. Flap goes the sheet, looks like the prop has cut it. Phew... Husband gets the flapping sheet under control, but whilst doing so, the banging sheet sets off the life jacket and it inflates. More drama. I wind in the sail with the roller reefing. Husband is now calm enough for me to tell him the news of the water.

The bilge alarm hasn’t gone yet, that is a relief... Then beep, it goes. I tell him the news. Beep, beep... goes husband. I take the wheel, and I vomit again. Quick, get the hand bilge pump going. So thankful we checked it and replaced rubber before we left! He pumps away, bilge alarm silences. We breathe a sigh of relief.

He investigates. It is the stern gland around the propellor shaft. The loose sheet must have shocked the shaft and broken the gland. We decide to keep the motor running, because if we don’t we may not have enough power to keep the bilge pump running, and even if we stop the engine the shaft keeps rotating because of the wind. If he puts his hands down to fix the stern gland, he could really hurt himself in these bouncy conditions. The bilge alarm goes again. It has only been a few minutes; the electric bilge pump is not coping! We take a deep breath. Les pumps with the hand pump. It stops. We pray for safety.

We look at each other. I say it is time to tell Marine Rescue. If the electric pump fails, we will sink! We then radio Cape Byron Marine Rescue; it is one o’clock in the morning and we are so thankful they answer. We tell them the situation, and that we were ok now, but if the electric bilge pump stopped working, we were in trouble. It was a ‘pan pan’ but we just didn’t want to say those ominous words. They kept in contact with us once an hour. It was reassuring that somebody knew what was going on.

We kept going, motor sailing managing 6 knots or, so. The auto helm kept us on track once we settled the sails down. Neither of us could sleep. The bilge alarm went every few minutes, pump, pump, pump, vomit, beep beep, interspersed with calls to or from Marine Rescue. Dawn came. We were off the Tweed River entrance. Marine Rescue suggested we go in, but the entrance is dodgy at the best of times and the swell was over 1.5 metres. All we could do was look longingly at shore.

We ate brekky. I couldn’t keep mine down. Pump, pump, beep, beep. I put a ‘help’ post on Women Who Sail Australia. My sisters responded with wisdom and love, but we just could not do what they suggested in these conditions.

It was Easter Thursday; we were due to go on the slip for our annual haul out the following Wednesday. We rang the Boat Works. Yes, they could haul us out that evening or on Good Friday, but it would be more expensive. We rang a sailing mate who was moored on the jetty there. He kindly offered to move his big cat sideways so we could come into the booked-out Boat Works. He purchased a very solid electric pump to see us through until Wednesday. All we had to do was get there!

Of course, ‘Murphy’ struck and we had to enter the Gold Coast Seaway a bit after high tide. Not ideal conditions for crossing the bar but we made it in. Next hurdle, a shallow Coomera River on a falling tide, with the shallowest bits reached right on low tide, at dusk. More grey hairs appeared. Phew we didn’t ground... We made it to our berth 18 hours after the sheet overboard incident and turned off the engine. We rang Marine Rescue to let them know the good news. The heroes had pump out boats on standby at various locations along the way... So thankful for them.

Husband asks me to put head down into bilge to insert the new pump hose, I almost pass out with nausea and exhaustion. He gets pump going, then puts broken rubber seal back in place. Miracles, no leaks until we turn the engine on, on a windless approach to the slip. That trip was the first ever that I uttered the words during that fateful morning off the Gold Coast, “I want to fly home!”. There were two more times over the next five months I said those words, but that is another story.

I was thankful that I had a family wedding to go to in Perth, and left husband on the boat to start haul out work. I came back a few days later, refreshed, but pleased it was another three weeks wait before we set sail for New Caledonia. I am glad I faced my fears and we did that journey, including the return trip back through those fateful waters between Gold Coast and Coffs Harbour again. However, being continuously seasick for seven days on the trip to New Caledonia, combined with boat expenses, missing family, and other factors meant that we have now sold our beloved Grace 7, Hallberg Rassy 38. We truly believe she was tougher than her owners. We had grace indeed.

Yet despite the seasickness and fear that I experienced, if somebody asked me to crew tomorrow, I would seriously consider it. I miss the ocean, the movement of the boat, the exhilaration of being powered by the wind, the beauty of sunrises, the hearing a whale blow on a night watch, the stars, the freedom, and even the adventure!