ALL'S WELL ON BOARD

Elizabeth Trevelyan

(The Trevelyan family wrote from aboard their 42ft cutter Whanake in Singapore, prior to leaving for the UK via Malasia, Thailand, Sri Lanka, the Red Sea and the Mediterranean. The cartoon is by son James.)

Speaking in general terms, which of the following does a yachtsman possess: unusual yardsticks, an especially stiffened upper lip or a fragile sense of pride?

Many readers will recognise something like the following: "This is Kerikeri Radio with tonight's sked ... Whanake, Whanake, do you copy John?". It is the voice of John or Maureen Cullen of Kerikeri Radio in the Bay of Islands, New Zealand. They have built up an excellent service around the Pacific, their morning and evening skeds being eagerly awaited by crews of many nationalities who appreciate the individual advice as they receive their medicine for the next twenty-four hours. Incidentally you can always picture the Cullens warm and snug in their static house whilst you are often, on this passage, at a precarious, ever-changing angle.

It is at the end of each individual conversation that the crunch line comes. With sincere concern they ask "Is all well on board?". A male voice usually answers in the affirmative, but occasionally the male voice is at the rail, or wheel, or is otherwise engaged and the female voice gains access to the airwaves. Now you hear a smattering of the real picture, all very therapeutic for the rest of the fleet who can invariably relate to the scene.

This whole question was forcibly (literally) brought home to me recently on a passage from Opua, New Zealand, to Gladstone, Australia. On the fifth day out of New Zealand we heard John Cullen speaking of a polar depression centred on Lord Howe Island with winds of 50 to 60 knots, but we were not expecting to experience them first hand. We took all necessary precautions for a blow and there is no need to describe the steadily worsening conditions except to say that the Tasman Sea is capable of having waves travelling in three directions simultaneously.

We were hove-to, warm and dry, reading in our bunks when the skipper got up to tune in to Kerikeri Radio's morning sked. Glancing through the porthole he said "Look out!" -- a huge wall of water was approaching and there was no way out. Whanake was knocked down and put severely to the test. A porthole of 10mm glass was smashed and the water which entered managed to cause a surprising amount of damage in a very short time. However, with a duvet stuck in the hole and the bilge cleared we were still able to join the Kerikeri sked. Due to a knock on the head the writer was unconscious and did not actually hear the transmission, but to the question, "Is everyone alright on board?" the answer, through the blood pouring down his face, came "Yes". It took the third member of the crew (new to life on the ocean waves) to add "apart from a few cuts and bruises". He was obviously uninitiated.