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salty dits Close encounters – errors and terror BY PAUL DEACON M any mates and captains obtained their positions on board British and Irish coasters by working up through the ranks in the customary "time served" manner that persisted into the 1970s. Going ashore to study wasn't an option for some and therefore they learned the basics on board. I fell into this category and obtained the position of mate through tenacity and a willingness to learn about deck work and navigation. I quickly scaled the promotion ladder, however, in the process of learning to navigate I made errors. Having scary experiences and near misses along the way was a steep learning curve. The transition from mate to skipper was perhaps the most daunting, as until the day came a mate's experience was mainly on the fo's'cle with the crew when arriving or departing port. Manoeuvring the ship around docks, locks and harbours was always the skipper's preserve on the bridge. While standing watches on the bridge as mate there was always the experienced skipper to call on should a situation turn difficult, although some skippers preferred you learned the hard way, others pre-empted most situations the way they'd taught you. However, even well qualified skippers and mates make mistakes despite years of study, experience and knowledge. When training as mate my first major scare occurred as the ship headed up the inshore traffic zone towards the Falls Light vessel north east of Dover. Down at the tail of the Falls sandbank "Search called off for missing crew..." Don't add to the stats! Plan for emergencies. VIP.S93 practise safety drills plan for weather do radio skeds maintain safety equipment 32 Professional Skipper July/August 2013 was a marker called the South Falls buoy. This buoy was a major turning point for coasters and where maritime law required a right angled crossing of the south west bound traffic lane in the busy Dover Straits. It was always a difficult judgement call whether to cross into the lane before getting too close to the buoy, and much of this depended on the volume of traffic and what available gaps there were to cross safely. Day and night, heavy shipping streamed up and down the traffic lanes in this narrow bottleneck with many of the larger and less manoeuvrable vessels seriously constrained by draft limitations in amongst the treacherous sandbanks. Besides having to contend with heavy shipping traffic and hidden sandbanks, the vicious tides sweeping backwards and forwards made an old slow coaster's passage either a tortuous slog or a fast romp, depending whether it was with or against you. Add to this mix foul weather, rough seas and spring tides, and the Dover Strait becomes a potential nightmare for the unskilled or unwary. A navigator in coastal waters has to calculate a safe course taking into account how the tides and wind can swiftly set a vessel onto fixed objects, and this I failed to do. The day in question I recollect that the ship raced along with a good tide behind her, doing about 12 knots over the ground and reasonable gaps in the shipping traffic to cross without hindering other vessels. When the moment came for me to turn the ship 90 Here I was looking at this large buoy leaning over in the ripping tide and the ship bearing down upon it at a frightening pace degrees to starboard into the traffic lane with the South Falls buoy looming up ahead, the ship's head slowly came around but with alarming speed the ship was also being swept sideways down onto the buoy. I had left the manoeuvre too late. Most navigation buoys are not small metal objects bobbing harmlessly in a tideway but are big latticed buggers easily the height of a small coaster's bridge and are anchored to the sea bed by massive chains. The tides swirl past these buoys straining at their chains and in a lumpy sea they careen precariously from side to side clanging their mournful bells. Here I was looking at this large buoy leaning over in the ripping tide and the ship bearing down upon it at a frightening pace. The ship's auto pilot failed to respond fast enough to my panic stricken alterations. I went into hand steering and yanked at the wheel with all my might trying to maintain a course to avoid the buoy as the ship slewed around in a sharp arc. The lookout sailor was aghast at the prospect of a collision with the buoy as we saw its large yellow and black frame just ahead of our bows. We were both shaking with tension and anxiety as I wrestled with the wheel, cursing like a lunatic at my stupidity and setting rapidly beam onto the buoy. Within seconds I was steering an almost reciprocal course to what and where I should have been heading. The compass card swung wildly, adding to my disorientation, as the top of the buoy became www.skipper.co.nz