"Solo Bob"

23/6/2016 Tin Can Bay Marina

Marinas are well worth the occasional stopover for the power, water, shopping, and hot showers. An added bonus is the interesting people one meets in passing.

Today I encountered a 68 year old single-hander named “Solo Bob”, a self-professed recluse who couldn’t stop talking.  This is not uncommon with single-handers (I am no doubt leaning the same way) -  for whom it is as if they have all these pent-up words waiting to tumble out.

Solo Bob’s tales were long-winded and dramatic, re-enacted with all the gusto of the original event.  The longest and most spine-chilling story was of a time, some 30 years earlier, when he had a head-on collision with a coastal cargo ship.  He recollected:

 

It was night time when I first saw it – a small black shape in front of me with its two white lights lined up.  It seemed to be a good way off so I went down to check for shipping lanes.  (Perhaps an odd first move I thought).   I never knew ships could travel at over 25 knots, like overgrown speed boats.

In actual fact, doing such a speed, the ship was only 2 minutes away.

When I came back up on deck, all I could see was a massive black cliff-face looming above me. I remember I could see white water behind it.

I didn’t know what to do.  In total panic I grabbed the helm and turned it one way, but it was directly into the wind.  The boat stalled and I tried turning it the other way, but it was too late.  Nothing I could have done would have avoided collision.

I never thought I was facing death, even though it was almost a certainty. My thoughts were more of curiosity, wondering what’s going to happen now.

I have no memory of what did happen after the explosive thunder of the crash.

In hindsight I could piece some things together. I was gripping the tiller with an iron grip. Next moment I was inside the cabin. The companionway entrance was very small and I usually entered backwards. I must have been thrown through it as the (steel) yacht buckled in half and slid up the square bow of the ship.  They suck you in you know; they don’t spit you away.

As the yacht was sucked along the side of the ship it filled with water.  I must have taken a deep breath just before I found myself under water, not knowing which way was up. Eventually I came to a pocket of air in the cabin and drew breath. It all must have only taken a few seconds, but it seemed an eternity. I half expected to be smashed up by the ship’s props but somehow escaped that.

Watching its stern recede into the darkness I was astounded by its obliviousness. Surely there would be lights and crew or some slowing or a rescue attempt  – but it just continued on its way with no awareness of the collision at all. Of course it was far from over for me.

I managed to get into my inflatable dinghy before the yacht sank.  Thinking I was only about a mile offshore, I was in fact about 8 miles, with wind and current against me.

I rowed for 18 hours. That’s beyond Olympic athletes you know. Every so often I would stop in absolute exhaustion, then ask myself “Bob, do you want to live or die?” and straight away I’d start rowing again.

It was winter and I knew about hypothermia.  All feeling had gone from the lower part of my body.

Eventually  I closed the shoreline but saw there were 3 big surf breaks. I knew I wouldn’t survive long if tipped out into the water. I managed to surf in on the first two, then got tipped out.  Luckily a local fisherman had seen me and came to my aid.  He gave me dry clothes but I was shaking so much I couldn’t put them on, so he had to dress me.  Then I was taken to hospital.

My first thought after I’d recovered was 'now I need to get another boat'.  Straight back on the horse.  I never had any nightmares about it.

They tried to trace the ship that hit me but in those days foreign ships didn’t have to report their position in Australian waters.  That has since been changed because of what happened to me.

TV crews came and interviewed me and even flew me over the scene of the accident but there was nothing to see.  One good thing they possibly influenced was getting the insurance claim paid out on only a cover note, no questions asked.  They reckoned I must be the luckiest man alive that day.”