and due to the width of the boat I was having to row on one side then move to the other, each time having to lean over the side to get the oar deep enough in the water, it was really not easy going at all.
I caught a glimpse of a figure with a torch walking through the marina and froze solid. I didn’t account for any security guards at a little marina like this and had no idea what I would do if I was spotted. The figure walked up to the gate that I had scaled just five minutes ago and paused, my heart was racing. I heard the gate rattle, the torch flicked around the pontoon and then away. The figure walked past the gate and back up the path towards the club where I could still hear the faint sound of music and drunken laughter. Close one, it must have been a security guard doing his rounds, luckily for me in a very half-arsed manner!
I rowed slowly out of the marina gateway and out to sea, the muscles in my arms were aching. It must have taken me about 30 minutes of continued hard effort to get this far, but I dared not attempt to start the motor just yet. The water was calm but the current kept pushing me back towards the marina, progress was painfully slow. After another 10 minutes I decided that I would have to start the motor, I had nothing left to give and I was certainly far enough away for the sound not to cause alarm.
I recalled all I read from my little boat book. I turned the fuel tap open and pumped the bulb to get the fuel to the engine and then turned my attention to the ignition, I was going to have to hot wire the boat if I was going to get anywhere. Using the handle end of an oar I provided the barrel with a couple of accurate whacks and it fell apart. I explored the remains and started to pull the wires apart. I located the live and began stroking it against the others. The engine burst into life with an amazing amount of noise, I had seen it done in films many times, but was surprised that it actually works! I tied the two wires together and I was away, I turned the throttle down to reduce the noise from the motor, looked at the compass, lined the boat up and set off.
In all the adrenaline-fuelled activity I hadn’t realized just how cold it was and now being in the open water with no cover on either side I was really starting to struggle. I put on a few more layers and the life jacket, but just could not get warm. There was no way I would last half an hour, let alone make it all the way to France in this blistering cold. Then I had a great idea. I located the rope and fastened it across the top of the wheel then guided one side through the door of the cabin and the other though the window. I got into the cabin, shut the door and window as much as I could, and tried my new invention. It was crude, but worked well enough. I placed the map and compass of the table, covered myself in the nets and began to relax a little.
All was going pretty well, I was heading south out of Southampton towards the Solent, the banks either side pulling ever further and further away and then the engine stopped. It was silent. I untangled myself from the nets and headed to the back of the boat. No petrol. In my eagerness to get away I had neglected to check just how much fuel I had in the tank. I refilled the tank, pumped the fuel bulb and restarted the engine.
The next few hours passed without incident. I negotiated the Solent passing around the east side of the Isle of Wight and the headed out to sea. It was then that the waves started.
The temperature dropped further, the wind picked up and at this point I really thought things were going to end very badly indeed. The little boat was being thrown around, the sea felt as if it was just dropping away like I was on a rollercoaster and it wasn’t long before I was throwing up like a good un. I opened up the throttle as much as possible and ploughed my way through, it really felt like I was going to capsize at any moment. I endured about an hour and a half of these torrid condition before the sea showed mercy and let me pass in peace.
Another hour of pretty calm seas and I checked the petrol and topped it up and settle down to eat a little to replace the several litres of sick I had fired out of my guts.
Two more hours or so of reasonably calm seas and the distant lights of France had me in floods of tears and uncontrollable laughter. I allowed myself to relax.
I woke up with a jump. It was a little after seven in the morning and I was lost. Panic hit me, nothing in any direction apart from sea. I had no idea where I was and the engine had stopped. I stepped out onto the deck and checked the wind, then the compass. The wind was blowing strongly from the east, my best guess was that I had been blown to the west and that I should do my best to head south-east to hit land. I filled up the tank (I was now down to my final can) and restarted the engine and set off. I travelled south-east for a little over four and a half hours and saw nothing. The engine stopped and I refilled it with my final can. The wind was still blowing quite hard, but I decided to do my best to stay put and wait until darkness fell to give me the best chance of spotting land. I searched the little boat and located the anchor. It was a small anchor, that was probably only useful when in shallow waters, but it was all I had so I threw it over-board and hoped for the best. I let out the anchor line until it ran out, the anchor had still not reached the bottom. I undid the rope from the wheel and attached that and continued to let it out, still not down. My last option was to use the nets. I gathered them up from the cabin and did my best to unravel them to get the most length out of them. I estimated I had created another 20 metres, but that was all. I attached it to the anchor line and began to let it out slowly. Down, down, down… touchdown!
I retreated into the cabin, curled up and waited until darkness fell.
I bobbed around what I hoped was still the English Channel for hours. It started to get dark a little after seven, but I sat tight for another two boring hours until it was pitch black to give me the maximum chance of seeing any lights. At this stage I didn’t care if I ended up back in England. Better that than to die at sea. And a crap sea too, the bloody English Channel, not the Pacific or Atlantic Ocean! Not even a sea!
I clambered out of my reasonably sheltered cabin and into the frosty night. The sea was dead calm. I pulled up the anchor, restarted the motor, pointed the boat south-east and opened the throttle to half way, I figured that a steady pace was the best option to conserve what little fuel I had left.
An hour into my journey my heart leapt with joy as a tiny speck of light appeared on the horizon. I readjusted the direction of the boat and headed straight for it.
Within just 10 minutes I could make out that the light was from a large ship that was clearly coming towards me. I adjusted my direction to avoid a head on collision and so as not to be spotted. In just a few moments I was passing by the side of a huge ferry, it was lit up pretty well and I scanned the sides for any clue as to where it was coming from or heading to, then I saw it. Southampton – St Malo. I quickly checked the map and then headed off in the wash of the Southampton bound ferry. Within the hour the tiny flicker of lights began appearing in front of me, I opened up the throttle and headed towards them.
Another half an hour passed and I started to make out the shapes of buildings illuminated dimly by the yellow glow of the approaching streetlights. I could now see the coastline so reduced the throttle and started to follow it in an attempt at finding a quiet spot to moor up the boat. After 10 minutes or so the lights on the land started to disappear, this was perfect. The engine stopped, not so perfect!
I quickly rushed to the back of the boat and examined the tank, completely empty. I picked up the oar and started to row. It was no use, no matter how hard I tried I was constantly being forced back, the tide must have been going out. I persevered for about two hours before exhaustion forced me to stop. I sat breathing heavily as the boat gently started bobbing away from the coast. I decided at that point that diving over the side and swimming for it would probably be the best option, but it was so cold that I figured that attempting it now would be suicide, best to wait until the sun has had a chance to warm the water up a little. I dropped the anchor and retreated into my cabin to wait for the day to start.
I dozed for a while and tried to put the impending icy swim out of my mind.
I was jolted awake and jumped up. The sun was rising and I could see the coast quite clearly and I could also see that the anchor line was straining in the direction of it. I pulled up the anchor, grabbed an oar and began paddling again. This time with greater success.
Half an hour of paddling and being dragged around by the strong currents of the rocky coastline and I saw the beach and doubled my efforts. Closer, closer, closer… land.
I dragged the boat up the beach, I had made it.
Friday, April 7th
After dragging the boat at the base of the cliff at the east side of the beach I allowed myself to relax a little. The beach was deserted. There were no clear paths, no houses or roads in view so I made the cabin as cosy as I could and slept all day and all night, I was exhausted mentally and physically.
After waking this morning I spent the day teaching myself to fish – with mixed results. I have been fishing a couple of times before but only ever caught a few tiddlers. I figured that as I had all the kit, I would give it a go. I am pretty much out of food and only have a small amount of money left and that is in pounds too which is useless here.
I set up the two rods I