July 1996, Barryann Lange in Annoe, Terry and Therese Bradley in Hara and myself in Orpheus, outward bound Nipin Bay, managed to be caught by a surprise 25+ knot blow-on-the-nose as we worked northeast between Redcliff Island and the mainland. We tacked into it as best we could with everything reefed, motors going. Annoe was getting pooped, Ann bailed tirelessly, Hara tootled along happily as Contessa 32s do in such conditions and Orpheus bounced along wildly at 45-50° off the wind at best, myself soaked through by spray and driving rain and starting to shiver. It got so bad it was difficult to see, we scarcely made headway with sails up and motors whining and going below to drum up a hot drink was out of the question. And oh, how I wanted that mug of hot hot tea, with plenty plenty sugar ....
We chanced on a tiny lee on the mainland just south of “Reef Rdclf” on the chartlet above, just enough smooth water for our three boats to anchor and sit tight. Barry and Ann clambered ashore to a patch of red rocky shale, but not for long. The weather worsened, darkened. Rain bent nearly horizontal as the wind rose to 30+ knots with the water green and wild and starting to snap its teeth at us. We were tense, bothered, uneasy at the prospect of overnighting in our flimsy, tentative shelter. And after three hours or so, we were bored stiff.
Bradley is the first to snap. “I’m outta here”, he says, “just follow me, we’ll be all right.” And he fires up his diesel, ups his anchor and takes off around the corner to slam head-on into it! And the two of us follow him, go figure. We’ve no idea where he’s going other than a notion it’s up and into Banta Bay but it’s hard to tell, the wind, the razor rain, the spray, waves ... we can hardly see him but somehow manage to follow, engines revved up to max, propellers cavitating down the waves, boats stalling to a standstill climbing up them ....
Barely into Banta Bay, at its mouth, Terry hangs a sharp right and makes straight for shore. It looks like he’s lost his rudder, if not his mind. Closer and closer, picking up speed, the wind behind him now, on a collision course with a rocky shore. Barry and I can just make him out in the distance and we each try to radio him, ask if he’s OK, can we help ... but no answer. Then he disappears. Hara vanishes, she’s gone! We get to where Hara turned shoreward just in time to see her mast and stern go out of sight behind a rocky ledge – and into a channel, yes, a narrow channel you’d never know without a Bradley to lead you in. Amazing! And once in, I kid you not, the water is like a millpond. Not a ripple. Outside, 30 knots of wind, 8-footers, breaking whitecaps and foam and green and driving rain. Inside, quiet, calm, still, falling rain, hardly any wind as the surrounding cliffs seem to deflect it overhead.
Three days we stayed there, waiting for it to blow over. We played bridge. We played dinghy polo with oars and a fender. We fished for Great Northern Pike. We polished off Terry’s Armagnac. We tried staring down a bear. Washed our clothes. Dried our clothes. Had hot drinks whenever. Talk of being bored....
