Travel Tips

It wasn't the sound of the shore that worried me. Though I couldn't see it in the dark, I could clearly hear the waves and crashing surf. What worried me was that I could hear it coming closer when I was rowing with all my might away from the shore. The difficulty was that I had a full gale against me in freezing temperatures, and the crashing waves were slowly filling the dinghy with water.

My dog had gone quiet though I knew she was there in the freezing water in the dinghy, probably looking at me accusingly. It seemed as hours had passed by, and I had started loosing feeling in my wet legs and arms. I couldn't feel my lips, but I knew they had to be there somewhere drawn back over my sneering teeth.

Dammit, I had to manage this! With a roar I bent my back and set all my might in a new attack at the gale. I could feel new adrenalin pumping as the sound of the shore faded again and I knew I was gaining distance once again. It seemed ages went by when I could hear a slightly different sound in the waves ahead. As the sound grew closer I thought I could see a hull in the darkness, but it seemed as I would never reach it. Slowly my last strength was dying, and even though I felt I must be near, I realised that I might not make it. Time seemed to slow down as I grew weaker and the freezing temperature crept from my wet clothes into my bones.

Dammit again! This was too stupid! With a new roar I gathered the last leftover of some deep hidden strength. I dug in the oars in a few mighty pulls and then I was there! I caught hold of the railing, and with numb fingers somehow managed to fasten the dingy. Then I picked up the dog and swung her over the railing.

I don't remember hauling myself on board, but I do remember lying on deck gasping for each breath. Then the shivering started. With a grunt I got up, turned on the heater, lit 30 candles and poured myself a well earned dram of Whisky. Raising the dram to the sound of the howling gale outside, I thought that those couple of hundred yards to row the dingy out to my moored boat, would never get boring!

Surfing to shore later with the wind in my back took only seconds and was thoroughly enjoyed by my dog.

The morale? You don't have to travel far to have a travel experience. What is your shortest travel adventure?

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In the forum were I posted this, I was asked to write a chapter two. I answered that no, it would only turn into a soap opera. So sorry, there is no continuation to this story. This is all I will write. The end.

The next day I found my boat in dead calm. It was so quiet that the sound of my dinghy oars were deafening. My dog insisted that she could hear a cat walking softly somewhere in the woods behind the boathouses, but I'm sure it was just her imagination!

It was just as cold as the day before, so as soon as I was onboard, the heater was turned on. The kerosene stove was also lighted to warm water for the cleaning that went wrong in the gale. I opened a beer, turned on the stereo and notice some water on the deck. Dammit! Rain water had leaked in during the gale. Forecast said full storm next day, so I better find the leak. There were two candidates with the cabin door and the portside widow. That window had a history of leaking and needed changing. In the mean time I had a pretty good short term repair with the elastic type tape that electricians use.

So I set first about repairing the door, enjoying my beer and listening to music. My dog sat on the bench in the cockpit enjoying the view of the navel base on the other side of the bay. there's always something going on over there.

Next was the portside window. This had to be done standing in the dingy, and conditions were just perfect for that! So I got my large roll of tape, a knife and a roll of paper towels to dry off the window, and climbed into the dinghy. Standing sturdy, I pulled myself along the hull to the low and long window and got ready for the operation. At precisely this moment, 3 ultra modern hightech navel vessels set in motion a navel drill of sorts. These ultra modern hightech vessels are made with stealth technology that makes them invisible if you happen to have a radar. I don't have a radar, so I could in fact see then very good with my eyes. I could also hear them very well. Not the engines though. They are also ultra modern hightech hyper quiet something or other to not be detected. What I could hear was an officer screaming unintelligent orders over their ultra modern hightech and very load outdoor intercom speakers. I gathered it was something the poor lads standing in a perfect row on deck were supposed to both understand and probably obey.

As these ultra modern hightech vessels set i motions criss-crossing the bay, they also set in motion the calm water. What hit the boat and the dinghy was like a perfect sinus curve about one meter in the extreme. My job became suddenly most challenging.

Have you ever seen one of these porcelain monks that have a lose head that nods when set in motion? Somehow that is what comes to mind describing my dog standing on deck watching me bob up and down, nodding her head. I tried to wait for the waves to calm, but in the end had to realise that the navy would be doing it's thing for a while. So bobbing up and down I did the impossible job of taping the portside window so it hopefully would not leak during the storm. The result was amusing.

I never did get to use the warm water, and had to throw it out or it would spill all over the place. As we rowed away in the twilight, my dog claimed that the boat waggled her rudder in anticipation for the coming storm. She really has an imagination that dog!

The storm was building up all day, and a trailer tipped over crashing into three cars going the other way. This happened on the middle of the bridge only 5 minutes before I tried to cross it to get home after work. Silly guy thinking he could cross the bridge with a thing like that.

That evening sitting by the warm fireplace I got this odd idea. For some reason I thought that a group of people sitting about the globe would be vaguely interested in a video of the storm. A video that most probably would show nothing and just sound like a lot of bad noise. I would probably ruin my camera too in the event. Brilliant!

At precisely twentytwohundredandthirtyhours I stood ready in boots and full rain gear. My camera was inside two plastic bags, and I had found an old strong umbrella to sit under for shooting the video. I wasn't sure the umbrella would work though. My dog walked up to me demanding to come along for the adventure. I advised her that a wet dog is awfully smelly, and she would be very very wet once we were back. All she did was give me a stare that said "see if I care, I'm coming along!"

It wasn't easy crouching under an umbrella, and trying to take pictures and video during a storm. Of course the umbrella broke and suddenly the camera was wet. I quickly hid it inside my coat and headed home to publish the video on the site where I had been writing about my adventures.

I wasn't disappointed! From Australia I got "Looked like a ufo to me ha, ha, ha", and from Canada I got "I was getting Seasick just looking and listening at your Video". Priceless! I just love these people!! And the video was real awful too. My dog on the other hand tells me that I have overdone this tale, and she reckons it's about time to move on to other adventures. Smart dog she is.

This is the video.

Friday night and a new trip out to the mooring in a gale. This time with a friend and the goal was storm party aboard! That night the boat rocked and the stereo rocked and the beer and whisky rocked too. Lucky the dog was sober, as it turned into a real storm when it was time to row ashore. We got ashore, and I swear without a square inch of dry clothes. We were laughing hard, but I had enough mind to tie the dinghy securely.

That was the end of the fun

Saturday and the storm grew more furious. News bulletins told of ferries to the islands didn't go, and even bridges closed. My mooring is dimensioned for boats ten times heavier, and I had new rope only this spring. I walked the dog over to check the sight of the boat first at noon, then at five pm. It didn't look good. Four of six boats had already been moved for the winter, and an expensive motorboat and my sailboat were the last two fighting the storm. On the radio they said the wind had reach hurricane some places, but it would be moving north at about midnight. At eleven pm I took the dog for a new walk to check things, and I noticed things were slightly starting to calm.

As I walked down the path to our little bay, I suddenly caught sight of something I never want to see. A boat washed ashore into the rocks. Dammit!! I was immediately on the phone to a friend that knew the owner, and as he answered I barked that he better get hold of him. My eyes then went out to where my boat should be, and there she was. She was still taking a beating, but the kind of beating both she, her mooring and all was meant to take.
There was all sorts of other damage to boat houses and other gear. I spent some time ringing on doors to thankful people that needed to secure their things. Apparently this all happened just before I got there.

The boat that had washed ashore into the rocks was the very expensive motorboat. Her ropes were ripped right over. Don't tell that I said this, but they were cheap ropes. The boat cost probably five times mine, but I would never used cheap or old ropes. Not even for my dinghy. It was pitch dark, but it was easy to see that the motorboat would be impossible to salvage. My bet is that we'll see the insurance people there in the morning.

Link to some video footage I took with my phone-cam (It's very dark, but one gets the idea nonetheless): http://members.virtualtourist.com/m/vv/16c0/

Wow, I didn't know this story would evolve like this when I started the forum thread.
...and all I wanted was to clean up my boat for the winter! I haven't got around to that yet...

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I just heard the storm is officially a big one. The clue is when they give it a name: Say hello to "Ulrik"

I should probably mention that we got a "mayday" on the boat radio last night. You get real sober when you hear a mayday. But it was a good distance down the coast, and not much we could do. A small fishing boat was missing in a fjord. there was some activity back and forth on the VHF, but then nothing.
This afternoon I read that they had stopped the search fir the boat in the increasing storm, and the probability that the single person onboard was not alive. Very sad.

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Update from my boat. I rowed out yesterday to see how things were onboard, and how the storm had treated her. The most dramatic thing was that the toilette brush had tipped over...