So when the rescue helicopter did it’s 6th low fly over us, I really knew how bad the sea was. They were either taking some action shots of our beautiful yacht (unlikely but nice thought) or really thought we were about to be in real trouble. Sailing into 5m breaking waves is utterly terrifying, stomach sick making and unfortunately relentless. The ‘let’s just pop out, round the corner and into the Ría to drop Grandad off’ as the wind has eased turned into more of an epic than we bargained for. The leftover storm Atlantic swell combined with deep water hitting shallow water was a worse combination than envisaged. Understatement. Big one.
So picture this, I am clutching Felix and his sick bowl, trying to look calm and this is okay-normal face, whilst inwardly wanting to scream at Russell about what a @#£&*% idea this was. Meanwhile Hugo is wahooing each wave as we breathtakingly climbed to the top of it and then crashed down the other side. How the kids were not scared is a miracle. I was clutching my St. Christopher pendant (thank you Katy & Dom 🙏, best present ever!) Grandad and Russell did a great job of helming through it all. Our deck is well and truly “green water” christened now. Anchor blocks were clean washed out, even one of our throw lines on the BACK stern rail was washed out of its cover. Russell and Mac took turns to duck the waves whilst helming. They both got wet…
Once we rounded the mark, we were able to turn down wind and sail or rather surf into the Ría, soon in more protected waters and the waves eased to normal sizes and the helicopter flew off into the distance.
Hugo’s diary entry sums it up!