Gesa's sixth sense

Call it a sixth sense, call it paranoia, but Gesa has a useful knack of knowing when something's not right.

We're in a little village called Ganges, a harbour on Salt Spring Island. It's an interesting link to our old home, for the boat used to be kept close to the old HMS Ganges training station at Shotley Point in Suffolk. This village is named for the same line of ships. For Arthur Ransome aficionados, some of the stories are set around Pin Mill - especially 'We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea' - because Captain Walker was stationed at HMS Ganges.

But I digress. We've arrived, we anchored, we explored. The usual we came, we conquered, we saw sort of thing. Back aboard for dinner, the rain is falling softly in it's British Columbian way and a cold breeze rises across the anchorage. We periodically look out the window to make sure we're in the same place but after an hour or two of not shifting, I do it less and less.

Gesa looks up later and says 'we're moving. Oh, no we're not, that boat is moving. Nick, he's really dragging!'. I agree. There's a thirty-fiveish foot yacht making her way quite rapidly across the anchorage towards a rocky shoreline. Clearly no-one is aboard, and if she doesn't stop soon it's not going to be pretty.

At times like this, it's really good to have a pre-prepared plan, to know what to do and just swing into action. We don't, so I wing it. At least the dinghy keys are where they should be, a lifejacket is right there and Gesa quickly grabs a length of line for a tow rope. I set off in the dinghy and manage to get a line on the boat's bow, make it fast to the dinghy and try to tow her back to safety. My first try only manages to stem her drift, my tow line is too short and I risk getting tangled in her useless anchor line. Lengthening the tow works, and I'm able to make some headway. When the wind gusts up we are dragged backwards but slowly I make progress.

After about fifteen minutes we are close enough for Gesa, who has been on deck watching and slowly freezing, to throw me a second line and we can tie the wayward boat to Ty Dewi. At least now we are in a fairly stable state, although I'm not happy to leave things like that. Gesa can get a warm jacket and gloves, and then we work hard to get the boat closer, another line aboard and bring her alongside us so we can lie safely until the owner returns.

We're most of the way through that when he does return, with a friend from another boat. They've obviously realised what's happened although until I told them, they didn't know how close his boat had come to the shore - less than a hundred yards at one point. Now we can let the boat go free and they lift the anchor in the normal way and head off across the harbour. I'm not sure, but I think they tied to a dock. He comes back to say thanks again and let me know that he does a lot of miles and has been to a lot of harbours and it's only in this one he really has problems. Well, I saw the size of the anchor on the end of that bit of rope and I'd say he could do with an upgrade.

The wind shift, and the extra load on our gear from two boats, has left me less confident in our position so we lift and reset our anchor twenty metres further into the channel. By now, of course, the kids have been awake and enjoying the bonus playtime as we sorted everything out so we have to go through a round of negotiation and threats to restore order before we can make a cup of coffee and settle back to our evening. Oh, the fun and games we have.

Interestingly, the Ransome book I mentioned begins with a dragging anchor - the kids are staying aboard one night when the wind builds, the anchor drags and they find themselves blown out of the harbour and with little option but to run downwind to Holland.