“My stomach mimed the visual, but didn’t mimic the spray.” - Kenny, a recent guest

Last week, my friend Kenny joined us aboard Yacht Milestone for two nights. We had a brilliant time, venturing out to Cowes and back, and managed to find ourselves caught out in an unforecasted F7, broke the davits and bent the bowsprit. At least, James and I loved it.

For the first time ever, may I introduce a guest writer to the blog: Kenny tantalizingly gives his take on our adrenal adventure…

Permission to come aboard rapidly transformed to permission to be thrown overboard, having committed the cardinal sin of leaving a visibly dangling fender. After being reprieved, the helm became my domain. Sadly my ship drunkenly weaved its way across the Solent, since my vertically challenged stature forbade me from seeing over the cabin; and secondly Miley is not a high-performance Porsche with immaculate steering. But the sun shone down upon us and the leisurely pace to Cowes suited all aboard.

Not quite the same situation on the return, though the only expected theoretical difference was the cloud cover. Not to be. Don’t believe weather reports. My adrenalin shot through the proverbial roof after helping jelly hoist the reefed main sail. She wisely and sailorly had clipped onto the safety line before attempting the manoeuvre, I didn’t. She knew what to expect in Force 7, gusting to 8 conditions. I didn’t. Attempting a controlled stroll aft while walking on the back of a bucking bronco with zero friction, she had over-polished the deck, again causing my adrenals to work overtime. At the helm this time James displayed the stoicism of a true masochist. With immaculate control, since we were sailing extremely close to the wind at an inflated rate of knots, he never thought, not once, of deserting his post as he suffered dousing after dousing. Unable to see for salt encrustation of his eyes, near hypothermic conditions and warm feet he stood heroically tacking across the Solent, using an unusual technique of dragging the Zodiac without losing speed. On the occasion my head breached the parapet my eyes screamed from salt irritation and my hair finally got washed. Then we hit the rollers. My stomach mimed the visual, but thankfully didn’t mimic the spray.

What a trip… I now walk with a 45 degree list to starboard, both fists are clenched, and my shoulders are touching my ears. Arriving on the swaying platform at Waterloo reminded me of the wonderful adventure.

What a trip indeed, and what a brilliant recollection. We shall have to invite Kenny aboard again!

Editorial note: basic syntax edited; capital letters added, paragraphs created, a couple of typos corrected. Also interesting to note that Kenny, who has spent a lot of time in America, spells ‘adrenalin’ in the American way and ‘manoeuvre’ in the English (correct!) variation.