There is a wide spectrum of sailors, ranging from those who have ‘back-up and redundancies’ for every scenario to others who will leave everything to the roll of a dice.

The majority of boaters seem to fit somewhere in between, coping with the impact of minor breakdowns and failure, as and when they appear on their cruise to an anchorage.

It is, however, useful to take time to think about the ‘what ifs’ on a more regular basis. You don’t have to become obsessive about every type of scenario that could happen on a yacht, but it’s good to remind yourself of some of the big ones like a medical emergency.

These incidents can happen at any time and in any conditions, but the likelihood of them occurring increases as the wind and sea state picks up.

I learned this the hard way when, in just a 12-hour period, a rapid change of weather brought about a very rapid change in fortune for a crew member and a two-year planned challenge.

Slow start

At 1000 on 21 June, myself and two crew members – Neil Baxter, a fellow disabled veteran, and Mark, a carer and novice sailor – were 70 miles into our 2024 challenge to sail around the coast of Great Britain, having left Portchester the day before on board Miura, my unadapted Colvic UFO 34.

The light breeze as we departed Portsmouth Harbour almost immediately vanished and we became becalmed. Our progress overnight was agonisingly slow due to the tides around the Isle of Wight and in the morning we were still south of St Catherine’s Lighthouse with just a few knots of breeze allowing us to make 1.5 knots over the ground.

During the night there were clear skies, an amazing moon, and the constant ‘donk donk donk’ of the Penta 20/30 diesel inboard.

It was a magical and calming experience, which would turn out to be the last serene time the crew would have for a while.

The forecast for later that day mentioned winds increasing from the west to south-west, Force 4-5 and possibly Force 6. This gave us some hope as our initial plan was to reach Falmouth sometime on 23 June.

By midday, the wind had increased to Force 3 and we’d furled away some of the 135% headsail. It is a relatively large furling headsail and that was purposeful to allow us to have good reaching and running speed without using a spinnaker. Only an hour later and the entry in the log has the wind up to Force 4.

A conversation was had between the crew about reefing the mainsail. We were not racing, and cruising is meant to be enjoyable, without excessive lean or slamming into waves.

With the forecast for a Force 6 later, we decided to put in two reefs while we still had a sensible sea state.

The previous weekend we’d competed in the Round the Island Race using two reefs and a much-furled headsail and the winds were up to a Force 8. We’d retired before going through Hurst Narrows, but the boat had easily coped with a far greater strength of wind with a double-reefed main.

The wind had too much westerly for us to make decent headway towards Falmouth.

Our course wasn’t going to clear Start Point so we tacked out to try and give ourselves sea room to clear the headland on the next tack. Two of the wind predictor apps had the wind changing to west-south-west, so we would easily make it if we had enough southing.

Out we headed, on a course of 190°, but that only last a short while until we were finally forced around to 170°.

At 1730 we were back onto port tack with our bow towards the west, over 20 miles offshore. The wind was a good Force 5-6, the waves were building and we were ‘shipping green’ over the bows.

Although we were able to steer a better course, the tide was pushing us once again back to the east side of Start Point.

Our plan had not yet worked, we were going to have to make more tacks throughout the early evening and possibly into the night. The wind hadn’t moved as we’d hoped.

Slamming wave

Neil went down to fill in the logbook after the tack. At 1732 Mark and I already had full foul weather kit on. I prefer to put kit on early and remain dry than risk delaying and falling victim to a sneaky wave attack.

We were then hit by a steep breaking wave, the impact was particularly violent and threw the boat to starboard.

From below there was an all-mighty crash, followed by screams of agony and then silence. I was sat next to the hatch and looked down to see Neil, laid out flat on his back next to the galley.

He was lying very still. I called to Mark, who was on the wheel, to put on the autohelm and then go below to see how Neil was.

I could not get to him because I cannot walk. This might be a good time to mention that I am paralysed from the chest down and can only use my arms, Neil is a below-knee amputee as a result of diabetes and Mark is the only able-bodied member of the team.

Our Round GB Challenge was to try and show that disabled people can still enjoy sailing and to raise funds for three charities supporting people with disabilities.

After a few minutes, Mark came back to the hatch and told me that Neil was conscious, he had severe pain in his right hip and leg (the same side of his amputation), and that it was way too painful for him to move.

Checking the chart, I could see that Torquay was 21 miles away, so I decided to immediately divert to Torquay and get Neil to a hospital.

Immobile casualty

Mark told Neil the plan, and attempted to make him as comfortable as possible and reassure him.

Our boat speed over the ground was 4.5 knots, so it was going to be about a five hour slog to Torquay. Our estimated time of arrival was around 2230, so the harbour office was likely to have just the one watchkeeper.

I asked Mark to call Torquay Harbour on Ch80 to alert the staff to our predicament. Unfortunately, there was no answer on VHF radio, so the next stage was to call Falmouth Maritime Rescue Coordination Centre and ask them to relay via landline to Torquay.

Mark worked the VHF and when appraised of the situation Falmouth Coastguard asked us to contact Solent Coastguard instead.

After contacting Solent Coastguard and telling them of our casualty and intentions they created a link call to a doctor.

Neil has diabetes and is also on blood thinners, so they had concerns over internal bleeding.

Due to the levels of pain described by Neil, the doctor was able to prescribe appropriate pain medication – both Neil and I have prescribed medication with us for our own particular set of circumstances.

We were then told to stand by during a discussion between the coastguard and the doctor.

A few minutes later word came through that the coastguard rescue helicopter was being tasked to us. We had 25 minutes until the helicopter was due to arrive.

Mark was kept on the VHF passing information regarding our position, updating the coastguard on the state of Neil, who was groaning with every slam and shudder of the boat.

When Mark came back on deck we worked to furl away the headsail and start the engine. The seas were tossing us about and it made every simple job incredibly difficult.

Mark had never worked with a helicopter before, and although I had it was while serving in the Royal Navy – on a Destroyer rather than a 34ft yacht!

The mainsail was going to have to come down, thankfully there was a lazy jack and stack-a-pack system on the boom.

Helicopter incoming

Suddenly the little diesel engine noise was drowned out by a far louder turbine engine noise. The helicopter was already with us.

Calling on the VHF, the helicopter crew were trying to pass information to us but the noise meant it was impossible to hear anything that was said.

Fortunately, the pilot understood and backed off a few hundred yards to enable me to use the portable VHF to talk with them.

With the casualty, the sea state, and the noise of the helicopter, I was feeling the ‘pinch’ of adrenaline, anxiety and stress. However, being honest with the helicopter pilot about not knowing the hi-line procedure was perfectly fine.

While Mark dropped the mainsail, the crew took the time to explain and it would have been far, far worse had I tried to make out I was OK with the procedure when I wasn’t.

It was a rapid learning experience.

Helicopter protocol:

• Drop your sails
• The helicopter will advise on a course and speed to maintain.
• The helicopter will then close in to your position and lower a weighted bag.
• There will be a line hanging below the weighted bag in order to earth the helicopter.
• Bring the weighted bag into the cockpit and continue to pull the attached line into the cockpit as well.
• Don’t attach the line, and don’t resist or hold onto the line if the helicopter begins to move away. Wear sailing gloves to minimise chance of rope burn.
• Once all the rope is taken, keep it out of the water and wait for the winchman to reach you. The rope helps to guide them to the cockpit
• Assist the winchman into the cockpit.

This all sounded fine over the radio, but when you are bouncing about in 4m waves, the act of getting a person dangling from a wire under a helicopter into a small cockpit is very, very difficult.

Looking straight up at the huge helicopter hovering over the boat, I had to remind myself that the pilot knew exactly what he was doing.

When the boat leapt up on the peaks of the waves I worried the mast might strike the rotor blades –but it was probably much higher than it appeared.

Mark did an incredible job to assist and then catch the paramedic who had been swinging just out of reach of our boat.

Several times the boat had lurched out of the way at the last moment and the paramedic was nearly dropped into the water.

When disentangled from the wire and rope, the paramedic went below to tend to Neil, Mark went to assist and I remained holding onto the rope attached to the helicopter.

Now below deck, after five minutes of consultation, the paramedic reappeared, had a chat with the crew of the helicopter on her headset comms, and then told us that it was not possible to extract Neil with a sling due to the possible injury, and it was certainly not possible to get him out on a stretcher.

We’d still have to divert Torquay and be met by the coastguard when we pulled into the marina.

The wire was lowered again, the paramedic clipped on and was lifted up in a flash.

Between 1939 and 0026 Mark and I navigated our way to Torquay Marina.

The waves were slamming into the boat, causing groans of pain to come from below. Although Neil had some pain relief he was still in considerable discomfort.

The boat was met by eight coastguard members and we were quickly tied up to a pontoon berth. The medics were able to give Neil pain relief and formulate a plan with the local coastguard team to get him onto a stretcher and out of the cabin.

After two doses of morphine, it was possible to secure Neil to a special cliff rescue stretcher and lift him out of the cabin feet first. The combined efforts of 12 coastguard and ambulance crew were required to get our casualty from cabin to cockpit to pontoon.

After that Mark and I were left alone, it was shortly after 0200 that we fell into our berths exhausted from the stress and demands of the incident.

Mark had worked incredibly hard to keep Neil comfortable, myself supplied with nutrition and hydration and the boat in a position to come alongside at the marina. I am eternally grateful to him.

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Challenge postponed

We learned that Neil had broken his hip in two places and would be taken into surgery the following day.

The decision was made to cancel the Round GB challenge for 2024, as it was not safe to have just the two of us try and make it around, and it was not the same without Neil who’d been a part of it for the past year.

Mark and I did, however, complete leg one (getting from Torquay to Falmouth), day-sailing to Plymouth and then on to Falmouth – motoring the entire distance as it was flat calm.

The experience highlighted to me how quickly fortunes can change. From flat calm and under engine, to Force 6 and sat under a helicopter took just seven and a half hours.

We cannot prepare for every conceivable eventuality but we can make sure that we remain calm when the tide turns on us.

I am hoping to attempt the challenge again in 2026. For 2025 I’d like to compete in Falmouth Week.

LESSONS LEARNED

1. Prepare to adapt – you can never truly know what is going to happen, especially when at sea.
2. Be careful when adding layers – it transpired Neil had finished the log entry and stood up to put his waterproof jacket on. Although the sea state was sufficient to ‘bounce’ the boat around, he did not wedge himself in or have a hand for the boat, both his arms were being put into the sleeves of the jacket when the wave struck the boat.
3. Consider impact points if you are thrown about the cabin – it might be impractical to cover every corner with foam but an ‘at sea’ safety covering could help prevent injury.
4. Keep a portable VHF radio for use in the cockpit if the main VHF is below decks. In our older boat, with the sails down and the engine running, it was difficult to hear the VHF. I used the portable VHF to speak with the coastguard helicopter as it hovered off the stern prior to making its approach.
5. To make any such event less stressful, learn the drill of the hi-line transfer of the coastguard paramedic.
6. Alert the coastguard early – Neil’s injury turned out to be significant, with his hip broken in two places requiring pins and screws. Having the coastguard there when we arrived helped us massively; to tie up alongside, to extricate Neil from the boat, to get us a hot drink and to reassure us.
7. Have the best waterproof kit possible. I was wearing my new Helly Hansen Aegir Ocean jacket and salopettes. The rain, spray and waves that washed over me for six hours might have made my hands a bit wrinkly, but I remained totally dry on the inside. The absence of feeling wet (and therefore uncomfortable) kept my focus on navigation, ship safety and crew safety.
8. Stay calm and prioritise. There are many things a captain needs to consider during an emergency: the decision to divert to a new destination,
   a new navigation course, liaison with the coastguard, reassuring casualties and remaining crew, organising the boat (sails furled/dropped, engine, lights), preparation for coming alongside in an unfamiliar harbour/marina. If you lose your calm you could forget or miss any of these things that will lead to a worsening of the situation.
9. Remember you’re not the first person to have been in this situation –many have been there before and many will be there after you. Even the elite in the sailing community have needed help and rescue.
10. Boats are built to be at sea, not tied up alongside – don’t let the slim possibility of something going wrong stop you from trying and having adventures.

About the author

Talan Skeels-Piggins is a former competitive Dart 18 dinghy sailor from Cornwall. He has worked as a Royal Navy fighter controller and PE teacher. In 2003, a motorbike accident left Talan only able to move his arms and shoulders. Talan later learned to ski and represented Great Britain at the 2010 Winter Paralympics.

www.sailbeyond.co.uk

Expert response

Yachtsman and adventurer Geoff Holt, the founder of Wetwheels, recently completed a voyage around the UK in a 9m accessible power catamaran – the first ever Wetwheels wheelchair-accessible power catamaran, having also sailed solo around Britain in a 15ft catamaran dinghy 17 years earlier.

He said: “Sailing is a great equaliser and any reader of the account of Talan’s misfortune should think ‘there but for the grace of God go I’.

“Coastal sailing, particularly in UK waters, presents numerous challenges, not least our metronomic tides and currents combined with wide-ranging and changeable weather conditions causing wildly varying sea states, changeable often in moments. The south coast of the UK being one of the most exciting but potentially most dangerous of them all to sail. “The ability or disability of Talan and his crew are almost irrelevant – your functionality on a boat and your experience are what counts.

“I myself am paralysed from the chest down. Unable to move my hands with limited arm movement, I have twice circumnavigated the UK, once in a tiny 15ft open trimaran dinghy and more recently in a 30ft powerboat. I’ve also sailed the Atlantic Ocean several times.

“Every time I go to sea I learn something new about myself but the only certainty is the sea is unpredictable and just occasionally, things go wrong.

“I imagine Talan and his crew had done extensive offshore training in advance of their expedition but you can’t prepare for the unexpected so this will be a temporary setback for them.

“I’ve been there myself so I know what it feels like. I wish them every success next time.”