Ambushed! My swallowing-the-anchor voyage

When the grossest injustice makes you poor – nearly broke – it’s amazing what you learn to give up and yet manage to enjoy the limited pleasures of life.

After I sailed around the world on my own and became a solo Cape Horner, I really didn’t want to return to journalism.

Why not become a professional yachtsman, I thought, and work on the sea.

After all, going to sea, particularly sailing across oceans, certainly feels right, and good, and what I should do.

I attended nautical college and graduated as a Department of Trade professional Yachtmaster. The work was great, I never lacked it, and took yachts on some very long passages indeed.

A few close calls

In my later fifties, and after a few close calls on the water – such as a losing a yacht and almost perishing in a liferaft, and surviving a month-long passage adrift on a mastless, engineless dinghy with only nuts and raisins for food.

It felt as if Fate might well be nudging me towards early retirement.

I sailed off on my last voyage, my swallowing-the-anchor 8,000-mile retirement passage, telling the story of that wonderful, exciting and extraordinary voyage in my book, Sailing to Purgatory.

When the hurricane season began, altering course to Britain seemed a good idea. However, in the Bay of Biscay, the mainsail tore almost in two.

I had no choice really but to abandon the route to noble Albion and sail south into a region of fair weather. The voyage ended eventually in South Africa.

I came to UK with the fiancée I had met in the Canaries, after the mother of my daughter Emily asked if I might look after her for the school summer holidays.

A highlight of the holidays was visiting dear friends, Gerry and Pat Adamson, in Hampshire … and I was ambushed. The unforgettable date was 1st September 1999, just a moment or two before noon. … Continues on the blogs for my ocean adventuring book, Sailing to Purgatory, at http://sailingtopurgatory.com/index.php/feeds/419-ambushed-my-swallowing-the-anchor-voyage