More Things that Kill You At Sea - Bonus Content
01-04-15
“Common sense is not so common.”
Irenka inspecting Davy Jones’s Locker
I said in a previous section that storms rarely kill anyone. But I’d like to caveat that with a warning about lightning. Not much panics me at sea, but when I see lightning on the horizon.. I know the adventure is about to get a whole lot more interesting. We’ve spent many heart-stopping hours sailing through lightning storms. They are spontaneous, unpredictable, devastating and terrifying.
Once, in the San Blas Islands of Panama, we were shaken to the bone by a deafening explosion and an eerie green flash. We thought we’d been struck for sure, but a buddy boat later told us the bolt had hit the water between us. That’s about as close as I ever want to get.
Not much panics me at sea, but when I see lightning on the horizon.. I panic. Fiji
Zeus’s Taser of doom
The mast of a sailboat is basically a giant lightning rod. Tall, metal, nicely wetted and salted and irresistible to anything crackling around in the clouds. And when it gets hit, you’re often left with fried circuits, a cracked rig, holes blown through the hull, and a repair bill that makes sinking look economical. If you’re lucky you can hand-steer into safety, but don’t count on your autopilot, GPS or comms surviving. Even grounding plates and fancy dissipators only soften the blow; nothing makes you totally immune when Zeus decides to send a billion-volt, cosmic taser your way.
The only real defence against a lightning storm is a decent app like, "My Lightning Tracker" that tracks storms in real time.
The only real defence is a decent lightning app that tracks storms in real time. At least then you can predict their path with a modicum of accuracy and steer well clear.
Man Overboard - The Non-Hollywood Version
We’ve all seen the Hollywood version of a sailor being dramatically swept away by a rogue wave. Yes, man-overboard incidents happen, but they’re rarely cinematic. More often it’s someone having a pee over the side, fumbling with a sail unclipped, or staggering around after a losing battle with rum.
And it’s not just adults at risk. In Fiji, a baby strapped into a bucket seat on deck managed to wriggle free, crawl to the edge, and fall overboard. The baby didn’t survive. It was the hardest, cruellest lesson for the parents – and the whole anchorage felt it, because every one of us had once left a child “safe for a minute.” On boats there is no such thing.
On our boat, we had one golden rule: don’t go over. Ever.
Drills with a fender make recovery look easy, but in reality the sea swallows people frighteningly fast. Prevention is better than cure: harness, tether, jackstays, and a deck kept clear of trip hazards. We were involved in a MOB situation on a ferry in Greece, and it was terrifying watching the crew trying to recover the woman (who had fallen overboard from another ship). She was fully conscious at the start of the rescue but the act of trying to get her aboard nearly finished her off.
On our boat, we had one golden rule: don’t go over. Ever.
A woman is rescued from the sea in a Man Overboard situation on a Greek Ferry
From Pirates to Pickpockets
Say “pirates” and everyone either imagines a slightly effeminate Jonny Depp type character mincing around the Caribbean or AK-47s, RPGs, and dramatic boardings. Yes, we’ve had AK-47s waved at us off Sudan, which sent us scampering through reefs at night, and a buddy boat once had laser sights trained on them off Ecuador (which were almost certainly smugglers), but actual pirates are rare. Most encounters are just fishermen trying to swap fish for cigarettes or alcohol with varying degrees of charm and menace. Your best defence is just to smile, explain you don’t drink or smoke, and don’t let word get around you’ve got booze or Marlboros. Offer water or soda instead, preferably in throw-range bottles.
Most encounters are just fishermen trying to swap fish for cigarettes or alcohol with varying degrees of charm and menace
Petty theft, though, is common. In Almerimar, Spain, neighbours had outboards and scooters lifted straight off their sterns while tied to the dock. In Denia, further up the coast we stopped someone mid-dinghy theft with a bit of shouting. In Parga, Greece, our dinghy anchor was nicked while it was actually in use. Yes actually at anchor! None of this will kill you, but losing your outboard or fuel can leave you in a very sticky situation - especially in some of the remoter parts of the world. Most thefts are opportunistic so the lesson is to treat your stuff like you would in any dodgy car park at home: hoist the dinghy, hide the fuel, lock the valuables.
Most thefts are opportunistic so hoist the dinghy and hide valuables
People: Drunker, Angrier, and Dumber Than the Sea
Other boats are often more dangerous than the sea itself. Sometimes they can’t see you; other times they can but still aim straight for you anyway. Indonesian fishermen believe that cutting across another boat’s bow dumps their bad luck onto you. We’ve had them do it at night, unlit appearing out of the gloom and suddenly there they are.. right on the bow on a suicidal mission to shift the curse. In Komodo, a tourist boat tried the same stunt and instead of passing off his bad juju, caught our anchor chain and rammed straight into our pulpit.
In Komodo, a tourist boat caught our anchor chain and rammed straight into our pulpit
Our buddy boat fared little better. In Raja Ampat (again at anchor) they were clobbered by drunken fishermen who stove a hole straight through their hull.
And then there’s outright hostility: after Covid, tensions in Tahiti and Moorea boiled over. Boats were robbed, lines were cut, and crews physically attacked. In 2020, 14-year-old Eddie Jarman, a British boat kid, was killed when a drunk local drove a speedboat through an anchorage and hit him in the water. Evidence “went missing,” charges never came, and the local authorities orchestrated a complete coverup. Two years later, in the same anchorage, my own kids were snorkelling when a jet ski buzzed them and the rider shouted at us to “get back to our own f***ing country.” And he was a tour guide from a local resort!
Jet skis and anchorages do not mix well, especially where people are swimming and snorkelling.
But not every danger comes from hostility, sometimes it’s just sheer stupidity.
Banana Boats, Blood, and Bad Ideas
In Ibiza, tourists were literally towed under a stationary catamaran on a banana boat. They ended up being bundled into a waiting ambulance, the blood hosed off the novelty inflatable ring thing, and within half an hour the operator had a new load of punters bouncing across the bay as if nothing had happened.
The Instagram Filter of Death
Cruisers aren’t always honest. Shocking, I know. We gloss over the ugly bits to avoid offending locals, looking ungrateful or upsetting our virtue signalling online friends. I once did it in Tunisia, editing out angry dogs, a filthy yard, and a corrupt manager who stole paint and money. I wanted to be “fair” to the decent majority of workers there.
Sugar-coating reviews doesn't help anyone and can even get people hurt. Honesty is always the best policy.
The following year another family hauled out in the same yard, based on our glowing review. They endured stray bullets during a rabies cull, and the same manager moved from extortion to open threats. They wrote to me afterwards, irritated that I hadn’t told the truth. And they were right. Sugar-coating risks can get people hurt. Honesty is always the best policy.
The Ocean Isn’t Out to Get You
The great myth of cruising is that the ocean is the villain, forever plotting to swallow you whole. In reality, the sea mostly minds its own business. It’s indifferent. But it’s not out to kill you. People, on the other hand are a different story. They’ll ram you while drunk, nick your outboard, scream at your kids, and tow tourists under a catamaran for the price of a beachside mojito.
The great myth is that the ocean is forever plotting to swallow you whole. In reality, the sea is mostly indifferent.
Storms, squalls, even the odd lightning strike; they’re all just part of the deal. What truly tests your seamanship isn’t the ocean’s fury, it’s dealing with the idiocy, bad tempers, and sticky fingers of your fellow humans.
Oddly enough, that’s the reassuring bit: Poseidon’s not gunning for you. But Steve on his jet ski? He’s a whole different story.
If you want more straight-talking tales from life afloat, and information about how to face dangers at sea, then you’ll love our upcoming book. We're inviting early readers to join the pre-launch crew and get behind-the-scenes access as we wrestle it into shape. It’s honest, unfiltered, and occasionally useful. Sign up here to get involved, give feedback, and be part of something that’ll either be a bestseller or a brilliant cautionary tale.
