The sea is a treacherous force. It can play a cruel trick when you least expect it. Yet our adventure began wonderfully. After noon we set out from Bergen under sail; the weather was perfect, the wind blew in the right direction, everyone cheerful and carefree. In such moments, life feels beautiful.
That’s when the sudden gust of wind struck – the one that tossed our poorly tied inflatable dinghy overboard. We sharply turned the yacht and rushed to save it, but that proved far from easy. Several times the waves carried it right past us. Meanwhile, because of our maneuvers, the jib sheet came loose and went wild, lashing the unlucky sailors who had abandoned the dinghy to try to tame it. One of the ropes, flailing in the water, wrapped itself around the propeller and jammed it completely. We lost the engine. And the dinghy.
It was decided that we’d find a quiet place to spend the night and call for assistance in the morning. We found a calm bay just as dusk began to fall. But if only things had been that simple! The depth near the shore didn’t allow us to drop anchor, so we had to approach the rocks closely. We needed to drop a second anchor and try to fix the yacht in place. There was a second anchor, but its rope was too short. So we tied another to it. And another. Apparently we tied them poorly in the rush, because the knot came undone and – oops! – the second anchor stayed on the bottom. The cliff plunged straight into the sea, and without a dinghy there was no way to reach the shore and secure the yacht to the trees. Night fell, and we drifted toward the rocks.
The night felt endless and surreal. From time to time we had to push ourselves off the rocky ledges with our feet. In the shapes of the cliffs, trolls seemed to come alive, the trees whispered something.
But the night ended, and the morning offered hope. The sun was shining, the sea was calm, and the trolls had turned back to stone.
In Norway the technical services begin work at 9 a.m. By noon we had drunk plenty of coffee, but at last a support vessel arrived with a team that looked energetic and professional. The diver suited up in his drysuit, armed himself with a big knife and a radio set, and went to rescue our engine. After about two hours of struggle, the motor finally started, but we were advised not to turn it off until we reached Haugesund – otherwise we might not be able to start it again. Well, then we simply wouldn’t turn it off. We thanked the team and were getting ready to head toward Haugesund, when our anchor refused to come up.
“No problem,” said our brave rescuers. “Let’s hook your anchor line to our winch. We’ll yank it out.”
They pulled and snapped the chain. Our second and last anchor stayed on the bottom.
So we had lost the dinghy, the anchors, and the ability to start the motor. But we hadn’t lost our optimism. With that optimism, we set off at full speed toward Haugesund. And everything was fine until the engine began to smoke. Slowing down helped. Some of our things got a bit smoked, but we made it to Haugesund. And we almost smashed a window in the local police office with the boom. But that also turned out fine.
We obtained two anchors and a new chain. And now we always check whether the dinghy is tied properly.
