The other view point

When we go back to the beach and saw Robinetta see-sawing on her anchor my first thought was that we had to get out to her. I was cursing my elbow, as I was not at all sure that Julian's rowing was up to the task of rowing against the wind and swell. 

We carried Worm down to the water line, and Julian was all for just launching her, when I called for a plan before we tried. The only time we had launched into this sort of swell before had been at Lundy, and our normal stern first plan had seen her swamped. 

 Roddy and Suzanne, experienced sailors that we had chatted with when we arrived at Rosemarkie, helped us by holding Worm's stern while Julian and I got in, and then Julian started rowing towards Robinetta. Some water had already come in over the bow, and I tried bailing with Julian's hat, the only container like thing we had with us. Julian did well at first, but the first time he stopped for a moment I could see Robinetta getting further away again. I kept trying to help him steer for her, but  every time I did that, his concentration broke, and his rowing faltered. 

The swell got steeper and shorter, and Robinetta was actually getting further away even when Julian rowed well. The tide was pulling us south. It was obvious to me that we would not reach Robinetta unless Julian rowed strongly, and consistently straight into the waves. Unfortunately he was hampered by lack of experience, and stamina. He also could not see where he needed to go, or how the waves were setting. Eventually I insisted we headed back to the beach. Doing that was easy!

I tried to get Julian to keep rowing, to ride the waves into the beach, but he was tired, and did not realise why I wanted him to. The consequence was that a wave broke into the stern and drenched me as we reached the beach. 

 Roddy and Suzanne had stayed to watch us row out. They were glad to see us turn back and reach the beach safely, as they had been wondering about calling 999. Instead that was left for me to do. I could not be sure that Robinetta would not pull up her anchor with the way she was moving, and the main sheet had come loose, so the boom was swinging wildly. 

Calling 999 and asking for the coastguard seemed the sensible thing to do. If we had brought our hand held radio I would have called a pan pan, but there is no equivalent call for the land based emergency services.

I left Julian to take care of getting Worm higher up the beach, and walked away to make the phone call. I may have imagined the moment’s surprise on the 999’s dispatcher’s voice, and she certainly put me through to the coast guard straight away. He had problems hearing me at first, because of the wind noise, but once I pulled up my shirt collar and held the phone and my head into it’s shelter everything became easier. I assured him that there was no risk to life, just the boat, and once we had agreed where the boat was anchored he told me to hang up to save battery, and that he would ring back when he knew what he could do to help. 

 Being taken back to Suzanne and Roddy’s caravan to get warm and have a cup of tea while we waited to hear back was lovely. The phone went, but it was a false alarm, just Inverness Marina calling back to giving us a berth number for the night. The next call was the one we were waiting for. North Kessock lifeboat had been launched, and would pick us on on the sheltered, Fortrose, side of the point. Once we knew the RNLI would come and help us back on board Robinetta, the worry became what we should do about Worm? Our good Samaritans promised to keep on eye on her overnight, and we headed across to the sheltered side of the point to meet up with the RNLI. 

Being hauled and lifted into a large rib is an undignified process, but the RNLI crew were lovely about it, and got me settled onto a seat before the crew member in the water pushed the RIB deeper so the engines could be lowered again. 

Once their own crew member back on board the rib set off round Chanonry Point towards Robinetta. The contrast in the swell once we came out of shelter was huge, and I hung on with my good arm as we bounced across the waves towards Robinetta, which looked tiny in the distance. Once we got closer we could see that she was still rolling and pitching wildly, with the boom swinging from one side of the cockpit to the other, bouncing off the backstays. One of the lifeboat crew went on board first, his helmet offering him protection if he got hit, and once the boom was secured the RIB approached again and Julian scrambled across. 

It took me two approaches before I could join them in the cockpit, but once I was there the motion did not seem too bad. It is amazing the difference being back in familiar surroundings made! Julian went across the cabin roof to the foredeck to begin hauling up the anchor, and I put some revs on the engine and motored forward to help. 

It was only when the anchor was secured on deck that I realised a couple of things. I was cold, and soaked through, and the instruments were still turned off. I had been so focused on getting Robinetta under way that I had failed to think about these things. As soon as Julian was back in the cockpit I sent him below to turn on the instruments and get a layer, and then he took the helm while I did the same. The RNLI man, on his first shout, stayed on the foredeck until we were out of the worst of the waves. 

The RIB escorted us to Chanonry Point, where the sea was as flat as a pancake and the dolphins were chasing fish, and then they took their crew member back and set off back to their base as North Kessock. 

Once we were alone I went below, and stripped off to get dry clothes on, then Julian did the same. The swell came back as we headed towards Kessock Bridge, but nothing Robinetta and her crew could not handle. The adrenalin was still running even after we were securely moored up in the marina, so although we had food on board we headed into Inverness for dinner. We needed a change of scene.