Call me wet but I'm no natural sailor

18 July 2005 | By Robert Thickett

My epic sailing trip from Portsmouth to Newcastle was the brainchild of Francis Mogg, associate director key accounts at Northern Rock.

He had invited Mortgage Strategy along to test our mettle on the high seas and to raise as much money as possible for the Pain Relief Foundation.As news editor, I was nominated to go. Id never sailed before, but my thinking was, how hard can it be?Sadly, visions of topping up my tan, skimming a few stones and smoking my pipe in a grand manner came crashing down with the first phone call from Francis.He warned me Id need plenty of waterproof clothing to keep warm against the wind, adding ominously: You dont want to mess with these things.I managed to track down a sailing shop in Covent Garden with the unlikely name of Squaw Squaw Shack, which ably kitted me out. The owner of the shop had a wooden leg and a parrot on his shoulder. As he scrutinised my signature and rang the bank three times to check my credit details, he stared me square in the eye. I felt we had an immediate rapport obviously, he instinctively knew a fellow natural seafarer when he saw one.Or not. The true horror of what I was embarking upon hit home on the first day. I had arrived at Portsmouth the night before and after a few drinks had got off to bed in high spirits. But in the clear light of day, I realised just how huge this ship was. Skipper David and first mate Miles showed me around. The nautical jargon sailed straight over my head and despite everyones efforts to reassure me, I started to panic. It turns out I was far from a natural. As we raised the sail, I could barely stand up. I tried to make myself as useful as possible but was soon placed at the back of the boat and told to hold a rope that reputedly did something to the mainsail.As we moved out of Portsmouth harbour I started to get into the swing of things. We divided into two teams of six, adopting a rota system of four hours on, four hours off. This didnt sound too bad at the time. We ate a tasty tomato stew full of onions, bacon and potatoes and I even managed a quick pint. In fact, I was feeling so good that when it came to the end of our four-hour shift at 12am, I forsook the strong sea sickness tablets I had been guzzling, believing Id finally found my sea legs. In this, I was wrong.I woke up at about 3.30am on day two to find myself upside down and the ship heeled over almost 180 degrees on its side. During the night the calm weather we were enjoying had become a force seven gale as we crossed the Dover Straits. As I gripped my bunk it sounded as though the ship was about to break apart as it hurtled across the mountainous waves.The crew on shift upstairs (on deck surely? Ed) had the unenviable task of tugging down the sails as the boat lurched up and down. In a moment of outstanding bravery, builder Stuart jumped on the sail to wedge it down. But as he rocked back and forth, a huge wave engulfed him, giving him a mouthful of seawater. This salty treat caused him to projectile vomit with such force the flow took his dentures along with it.As we clawed our way up to begin our four-hour shift, the rocking motion started once more to take its grim toll. I held on for about the first half hour but then could not take it anymore and ended up hurling across the deck. Bang went my dinner. I continued to heave for the next three hours. The only plus was that I knew Hamptons International Mortgages Jonathan Cornell now owed me around 30, having sponsored me 1 for every time that I puked.After a good nights sleep, I perked up and was back to my normal self. I was now fully doped up on sea sickness pills and could even nearly stand up.However, I was so on edge about getting back in time to catch my flight home that I took personal command of the craft a few times, looking very much the part, smoking my pipe and fully kitted out in my trusty souwester. Sadly, after each stint, someone then had to spend half an hour getting the boat back on course again but I felt I was doing my bit.We finally docked at Blyth where a large marquee and plenty of beer was waiting for us. Alas, after the group photograph, I only had time for a quick pint before heading back to London.Many thanks to Anne, John, Roger, Stuart, Anne, Lisa, Peter, Tom, Bill, Alan, Miles and David at Ocean Experience, and in particular, to Francis (pictured above) for looking after me. And thanks to my sponsors, including Accord Mortgages, Platform, BM Solutions, Alliance & Leicester, Mortgage Express, Linda and Trevor Thickett, Jonathan Cornell, Inez de Koning, James Rodea, Richard Hurst, Nick Goree and Lavinia on the MS reception desk.

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