Oh, the horror, the horror . . .
On the way to Hanko from Helsinki, I stopped for the night at a little bay in a little island. And hit an uncharted rock. Rode
up so high on the rock that my bow thruster was out of the water
. Reverse thrust made me spin around hard, and I was afraid that I would spin my rudder
into the rocks and be really stuffed. But somehow I managed to work my way free, and now I'm tied up, bows-to, at the little island. Afloat.
In five years and more than 10,000 miles, this is only the third time I've ever touched the ground in this boat. The first time on an uncharted sand bar in Dartmouth Harbour. The second time last May just an arms-length from the dock
in Dunkerque, which has silted up. And now this damned rock.
I presume that there is no damage -- my boat is immensely strongly built. But we shall see when I lift
out at Cowes when I get back to Blighty, still 1500 miles or so away.
The rock was uncharted, but alas -- not unmarked. There was an East cardinal marker, just a little stick, painted black, with a white band. I am not used to reading this system of cardinal markers and took it for a West one. So I can't say it wasn't my fault
There was a very old Finnish man on a beautiful, old Swan, tied up at the same place, who took my bow line around a tree when I got to the Island. I was red-faced, and told him that I had never hit a rock before in my life. He looked at me with bemusement and said, you've been very lucky. In Finland
, I realize, that would be normal.