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Old Buoys Network

On our Tugs Barge In page in this issue we feature Petit Robert a tug captain and formerly owner/operator of the 'Dakar', based on the island of St. Barth's, part of the French West Indies. Every day, across the world, objects are let loose on the seas and oceans, occasionally deliberately but more often by accident, which are likely to give the average yachtsman anything from an unpleasant surprise to a potentially fatal situation. Containers lost in deck mishaps or worse; a deck cargo of rough-sawn timber loosed to drift when the chains holding them down break free, to name but two typical hazards.  Petit Robert received a message asking him if he would go out and retrieve a buoy which had torn itself loose in the Canary Islands and, by the calculations of the experts should be somewhere just off St. Barths, having crossed the entire Atlantic Ocean, drifting on the current.  Jotting down the likely co-ordinates of its whereabouts, Robert summoned his crew and, within a short while they were on their way. Sure enough, they spotted it bobbing along. It seemed a very small thing to be making a fuss about but they steamed up to it and shackled their lifting gear onto it. As you will see if you care to click on the mini-photos and view the full-sized versions, they got rather a surprise! The buoy was put ashore at St. Bart's, where it remains.  Any yacht meeting this object in the night or imagining it would be safe to pass close to the visible portion would have been in danger of a nasty shock...
Somewhat like an iceberg, no? The photographs were taken by Petit Robert himself.

The Skipper has a tale to tell about an unplanned visit to the Balearic island of Cabrera...
"Some years ago, whilst taking some charter guests from Palma to Cala Ratjada on the Eastern-most point of Mallorca, we experienced a Tramontana, or Mistral, that literally came from nowhere, as can happen in the Mediterranean.

In bright sunshine, short steep seas and the schooner making a steady 10+ knots, I was in heaven but, recognising the symptoms - those over-concentrated looks and people that, previously, had been laughing and joking  becoming very quiet,  it dawned on me that it could be an idea to get them in to Cala Pto Petro. 

Much closer, however, was the island of Cabrera, (39° 09.4' N  02° 55.6'E) a military outpost, south of Mallorca, with a small garrison for which a permit is required to visit. 
I reckoned these were extenuating circumstances and headed for the infamous island where, it is said, eight hundred French prisoners of war during, and after, the Napoleonic conflicts, resorted to cannibalism to survive. Less than one hundred of those souls, apparently, left the the island of Cabrera alive.
On the approaches it was like a chicane as literally thirty or more boats headed for shelter. The wind now was a steady 40 + knots and the sea was running as only the Mediterranean can make it , short breaking waves that had no effect on our progress but were causing severe problems amongst the tiny fishing boats and day-sailors that were trying to get into the the natural harbour of Cabrera.
We were approached by a Spanish fast naval patrol vessel and informed that we were to leave immediately or stay in the harbour for three days, as there was to be a N.A.T.O. exercise on and around the Island. I explained the situation to my guests, knowing that they were expected in Cala Ratjada the following day for some kind of reunion party. The green, imploring, looks told me all I wanted to know and I informed the officer on the Spanish boat that we would anchor inside. For one reason or another, I have enjoyed many pleasant visits to Cabrera and therefore know where not to anchor. The holding in most of Puerto de Cabrera is poor - sand on rock, or dense weed, close to, but the deeper sand between Cova Rotja and Cala Clavellera (mid channel) is generally "chancy to good". I deployed both anchors and, in no time, what with the wind being accelerated down and through the anchorages, realised we had struck lucky and both chain and cable were like piano wires. Through the white-out I could just discern a dinghy astern a motor cruiser, spinning horizontally three feet above the water. Dusk was approaching and my guests were getting into the sundowners, in the saloon, to the strains of the Gypsy Kings. Just below the volume, I could hear lots of babbling on the V.H.F. Sure enough, a lot of boats were slipping and sliding in the poor holding and were vociferously blaming one another. There was one hell of a 'to do' .Just then, there was a bump on the hull and upon reaching the deck I discovered two elderly fishermen and a boy in a 14 ft fishing boat. We all helped them aboard and tied their boat astern. There were many small boats stranded for the duration of the exercises and they could not sleep on board their tossing and rolling boats. It was heartwarming to see so many yachtsmen (who were not dragging) come to the aid of fishermen, day-sailors, motor boats and sundry other boats that were not equipped to anchor safely and were taken astern. The following morning presented the sad sight of many boats on the beach, several on the rocks and a large fishing boat holed on Pta de S'Espalmado. By noon all that could be done had been achieved and it was time to introduce my guests to the military canteen and their first rate bakery and store. However, the military store and bakery were virtually sold out, so we all reluctantly went to the bar, yuck yuck, and forced ice cold Cuba Libras, beer and wine down, with delicious 'tapas'. Poor us!
Now it seems, the sense of, 'all in the same boat ' camaraderie was all pervading, the English and the French working with the Germans to help wherever they could, larger boats volunteering bunks to people with nowhere to stay and most boats providing, and cooking, for all comers.
That evening, during dinner, the sky was lit up with flares and then a barrage of heavy gunfire started and continued for most of the night. It was a balmy night and, sitting up on deck, I discussed with the guests the unfortunate situation and the fact that they had foregone their reunion dinner. "What?! We wouldn't have missed this for the world!" That comment was agreed unanimously amongst the six guests and reminded me that human beings do tend to become more human in a crisis.