Dozy Writes

This is the follow up to last week’s post.

Despite the challenges of my lifelong motion sickness and the experiences of the previous year’s holiday, I didn’t hesitate to volunteer to help my partner A.P sail his new boat up the North Sea from Hartlepool in England to Inverness in the north of Scotland.

At the time of making the offer, I didn’t realise that the North Sea is notoriously rough. Even if I’d known that, it still wouldn’t have stopped me because I was blinded by love. Plus I’d developed a bit of a taste for an adventure.

This particular adventure was going to involve over 265 nautical miles and we expected it to take a couple of weeks. 

I started to freak out a little after studying the route on a map. It was quite a serious journey and would be the biggest boat trip I’d ever embarked upon. I was also concerned about the level of seasickness I would experience but A.P reassured me that I didn’t need to worry. We would be hugging the coastline for the most part and there was a prevailing south westerly wind that meant we should have some fairly calm conditions.

His new boat was a yacht although it looked more like a pirate ship. Whilst it was undoubtedly pleasing to the eye, there was no cabin to shelter in whilst steering the boat. There was a small structure known as a doghouse which was basically a canopy over some inset seating that was located part of the way down below deck but you couldn’t sit in there if you were steering.

We were making the trip in the middle of May which can still be quite cold in the UK, particularly out at sea. On the days when it was clear and sunny the temperature rarely increased beyond 8℃.

We were frozen up on the deck and wore multiple layers to try to keep warm. I remember counting one day that I was wearing five layers of clothing on my top half alone: a vest; two sweatshirts; and two jackets. I was also wearing a pair of leggings under my jeans and three pairs of socks. The layers were quite effective until you had to bend or move in any significant way. Wheneverwe were about to arrive at a port, I would start to do a striptease, removing enough layers to allow me to bend down to tie off the ropes.

By the end of the trip we had tanned faces and a triangular shaped tan across our hands from where they had poked out from our jackets. They were the only parts exposed to the elements.

Where’s the south westerly wind?

The promised south westerly wind didn’t materialise. Over the two week period there were some very challenging conditions including one particular day that was described as ‘a confused sea’. It was exactly as it sounds, the sea had no clue what it was doing. I kept wondering if I should be nervous but it felt surprisingly safe on deck and  we didn’t go out if the conditions looked too dodgy.

Despite ingesting packets of Stugeron tablets and the almost permanent wearing of Sea Bands, I frequently found myself vomiting over the side of the boat in between updating the ship’s log or pouring cups of tea from a hot flask. 

Even when I wasn’t throwing up, I still felt nauseous the whole time. It wasn’t pleasant. 

The challenges of the trip were made worse by the fact that we were basically camping onboard. The boat wasn’t designed in any way for people to stay on it. It had previously been used as a sail training vessel so it was only ever used for day trips. There was no running water other than the intake of sea water for the toilet so we had a water container which we refilled each time we stopped at a port. 

Our days were long and surprisingly busy. Every morning we would tidy away the makeshift bed on the floor which had been fashioned out of seat cushions. Then we would have breakfast and I would organise some provisions to keep us sustained throughout the day.

Flasks of tea, soft drinks, oatcakes, peanut butter, cereal bars, crisps and my ever faithful Rich Tea biscuits would be packed away in a box that would sit up on deck. The aim was to nibble on very plain food in the hope that it wouldn’t settle my stomach.

We would then head off and sail towards our next destination which could take anything from four to ten hours. Once we arrived at port, we would have to organise the paperwork for our night’s stay which often takes longer than you might expect.

Then it was time for A.P to plan the trip for the following day, taking into account the weather, tides and the expected travel time. After that was organised we would head out to whatever town or village we were in and try to find somewhere for dinner then we would return to the boat, exhausted and ready for bed. 

It was quite intense but the tiredness felt like a good type of tiredness, one that we had earned through physical exertion and exposure to the elements.

Beautiful sights

We had a particularly memorable day sailing past Lindisfarne, situated off the Northumbrian coast in England. It was a beautiful clear day, if somewhat cold, and I was at the wheel, singing Gaelic songs and having a rare old time to myself. It was joyous to see the island, knowing the history of the infamous Viking raid in the eighth century. 

All the way up the coast we saw a variety of birds but my favourites were the puffins. I was fascinated with them and there were many occasions where the act of watching them distracted me briefly from the extreme nausea I was feeling. 

We gradually crept our way north and when we arrived in Scotland, the seals came into the harbour at Eyemouth to welcome us. It was more likely that they were looking for food but whatever the reason, it was nice to see them.

The next morning we headed up to Montrose. We’d left at 7.45am to catch the tide at the right point and it was a long day sailing, we didn’t arrive until 6pm. It also happened to be A.P’s birthday so I said I would treat him to a nice meal once we had planned our sail for the following day.

Montrose is a busy industrial port so we were wedged in between huge tanker ships. I paid the requested sum of £25 for mooring there for the night and asked where the toilet and shower facilities were, only to be told that there weren’t any. I was really disappointed, recovering under a hot shower was one of the joys of arriving in a port. and the thought of it was something which helped me to deal with the incessant nausea. 

A birthday celebration

I swallowed my disappointment and we headed out for some dinner. Or at least we tried to. We couldn’t actually find the exit to the port. We ended up walking around for 20 minutes before we eventually found our way out. Once out, we walked up what we thought was the main street and tried to find somewhere for dinner. It was almost 9pm by this point and we were tired, cold and hungry.

We walked for a while but the only place we could see open was a chip shop that had some tables and chairs. It wasn’t exactly the treat I had in mind for A.P’s birthday but it was going to have to do. When we entered, the guy behind the counter told us he was just about to close so it was takeaway only. I slumped a little but we ordered our food.

When I went to pay it turned out that they didn’t accept payment by card and I didn’t have any cash so poor A.P had to buy his own birthday dinner. We found a bench out in the street and had just started eating our chips when it started to rain. Happy birthday A.P! 

The next day we were up really early, ready to sail again. We had planned to sail up to Peterhead which was expected to take around  twelve hours. With all sailing trips, A.P planned at least one backup place that could be used as a refuge should there be any issues whilst we were out. The refuge point for this trip was Stonehaven. 

A taxing start

We’d not had a great sleep the night before owing to the constant noise and movement of the big tankers. The tide from the river had swept along with such force that the boat kept banging into the quay wall all night.

I was exhausted and to make matters worse I had my period and it was particularly heavy. The last thing I felt like doing was standing on a boat in the cold all day whilst feeling nauseous. A.P asked me if I wanted to delay our trip until the following day but I had even less of a desire to stay in Montrose. I just wanted to get to somewhere with showers where I could relax a little. 

We set off at 7am and within half an hour it was apparent that there was no way I would manage the trip to Peterhead. A.P, standing at the wheel steering, turned back to look at me in concern. He took in my terrible pallor and said, ‘Shall we just go to Stonehaven?’. I nodded with relief. Unfortunately it was still going to take us almost six hours to get there.

Prior to going on the trip, I had chatted with one of our boat pals and shared my apprehension about suffering from seasickness. He told me that there were a few times when he’d experienced seasickness so bad that he just wanted to die. I didn’t really identify with that sentiment. I’d certainly felt awful when I’d been out on the boat before and I wanted the feeling to pass but I’d never felt so bad that I wanted to die. 

I understood exactly what he meant on the way to Stonehaven. 

I was violently sick, continuously. I saw puffins in the water quite a few times but not even their cuteness could provide some relief for me that day. I sat at the back of the boat and gazed into the water, thinking that drowning seemed like a more preferable option than this torture.

I managed to hold on and soon A.P pointed out Stonehaven harbour in the distance but the problem with being on a boat is that you see the landmark for about two hours before you reach the blooming place. 

Eventually we were almost at the harbour and I looked on in pleasure as everything started to shimmer. I could feel myself smiling, thinking how lovely everything looked. The next thing I knew I was slumping down, and I could feel myself start to fall to the deck. Oh fuck, I thought to myself, I think I’m about to pass out!

I don’t know exactly how I managed it but I pulled myself out of it and tried to concentrate on staying alert. The large swell and the size of the waves made the approach to the harbour quite tricky and I figured that the last thing A.P needed was me passing out on the deck. 

Safe in the harbour

It was really choppy inside the harbour and as soon as we tied up, A.P instructed me to get off the boat to help me feel better. It’s perhaps a testament to the conditions that we’d been out in that even though the boat was rocking back and forth quite ferociously, I replied that I was OK as it felt much calmer in the harbour.

Eventually, I clambered up the quay wall and Harbourmaster Jim, who will forever be my favourite person in the world, handed me a key to the facilities and said, ‘Here, you’ll feel better after a hot shower.’ He wasn’t bothered about sorting out the paperwork first, there was plenty of time for that, he just wanted me to feel better. What a hero.

After my shower, I got back on the boat and wrapped myself up in a blanket whilst A.P put on the gas stove to provide some warmth. Not long after getting it going we watched in horror as the flame spluttered and went out. We’d run out of gas. I burst into tears, I was freezing and exhausted and I just wanted to sleep. Fortunately, A.P is also a hero and he headed out to get some more gas whilst I managed to have a nap.

I started to recover after a couple of hours and we headed out for a walk and then had an amazing curry at a fantastic restaurant that made up for the disappointment of the previous night.

A.P fully expected me to quit the trip at that point but it turns out that I’m pretty hardy so I stayed and the following day we headed off on an eight hour sail to Peterhead. I even managed to steer my way into the port which was a first for me.

I had to leave A.P at Peterhead as I needed to return to work. A.P continued sailing single handed around Rattray Head, the headland north of Peterhead and then along the Moray Firth before arriving back in Inverness four days later. 

Despite the fact that I had been so ill for most of the trip, it had been an incredible experience and I was excited about the prospect of going on more sailing adventures but I needed to see if there was some way I could address my motion sickness.

How to treat seasickness

Soon after, I bumped into one of my swimming pals who was a GP and a keen sailor. I updated him with our adventures and told him about the terrible seasickness I’d experienced. 

He told me that there was a very good cure for seasickness. I was so excited to hear this, surely as a doctor he would have some great remedies.

‘The best way to treat seasickness,’ he announced, ‘is to find the nearest oak tree and sit underneath it. Then you’ll be so far away from the sea that you won’t feel sick!’

Hmm, not quite as helpful as I hoped.

Although we had a few more boating adventures, life changed so our plans had to change too. A.P sold the boat and we have adventures in other ways now. Although there are parts that I miss from being on a boat – it was especially fun to live on for a while – I don’t miss the awfulness of the seasickness from the big sailing trips. 

Sometimes I look back and wonder why on earth I did it. A.P thinks I’m really brave because I always went out on the boat even though I knew it would make me ill. I think I just loved having adventures with him and he gave me the confidence to try something I never thought I would have enjoyed. And I did enjoy it. I had a lot of incredible experiences that I feel really grateful for and I am proud of myself for doing it.

I’m happy that I gave it a go but I have no plans to sail on the North Sea ever again!