S^
outh of the Straits of Hormuz in the
Sultanate of Oman is Musandam,
known locally as the Arabian Fjords.
Stretching some 15km inland from
the Arabian Gulf, steep, rocky
mountains plunge into deep,
broad waterways only accessible
by boat, with a few traditional
villages clinging to narrow foreshores. To
preserve the ecosystems, Omani regulations
only allow a few lucky sailors access to the
stunning scenery each year, where two resident
pods of dolphins play alongside visiting boats.
Having obtained our permit from the Omani
embassy in our home port of Dubai, my wife
Judi, I and our co-owner Asli Plail excitedly
planned our trip to Musandam on Rahala
(Arabic for ‘voyager’), our Jeanneau Sun
Odyssey 36i. We set off mid March, anticipating
temperate spring weather before the summer
arrived. After the two-day sail to Musandam,
we enjoyed three days of cruising, dolphin
watching and relaxing. Sunday 19 March
was to be our fi nal night before heading home.
We’d checked weather forecasts and it seemed
we had a small window to make the two-day
sail south to Dubai before a storm front arrived.
The forecast for the next couple of days was for
relatively calm seas and 10-15km winds. To
give ourselves an easy exit the next morning,
in late afternoon we anchored towards the end
of Kawr Nafi zi channel opposite a shoreline
village, just a few kilometres from our exit
to the Arabian Gulf. Rather than sitting in the
middle of the channel open to the elements
and possible traffi c, I picked a spot with a little
shelter from a rocky outcrop and dropped our
Danforth anchor, all 25m of chain and about
5m of rope – a ratio of over 5:1 to the depth.
We settled down to enjoy our last night in
a picturesque location, chatted with a couple
of villagers who came alongside in fi shing
boats and enjoyed supper in the cockpit. We
tied our bimini back for a better view of the
clear night sky.
Our fi rst sign of anything untoward came
just after 2000 when occasional lightning could
be seen over the mountains and out at sea.
Had we known the area better, we would have
realised this was a warning to be heeded.
At around 2045, the wind suddenly picked
up. We urgently started to clear away the
remnants of dinner. Asli was in the galley
with my wife passing dishes and cutlery down
to her. Before the job was completed and we
could get more prepared, a hurricane-force
wind howled down the channel, hitting us
from astern. Accelerated by the mountains
bordering the channel, the katabatic wind
screamed like a banshee. Rahala, tethered by
her anchor, held her position for a few seconds
and then, without warning, heeled violently to
starboard before fl ying around on the complete
length of the anchor rode.
THE BOAT THAT ROCKED
In the cockpit, Judi clung to the backstay and
bimini frame to avoid being fl ung out of the
boat. Later, she said it was like being on
a fairground ride. Asli in the galley was thrown
to the cabin sole by the sudden heeling. I had
jumped down the companionway to turn on
the engine battery in the hope I could get us out
of trouble. In the seconds
this took, the boat swung
around over 180° with the
violent heeling leaving me
to clamber up the side of
the companionway steps
to get back to the cockpit.
Strained by the
tremendous wind and
the weight of the boat, the
anchor rode was stretched
to its maximum. Luck
stayed with us; the anchor
held fast and now, facing into the wind, the
boat came to a halt, facing the direction from
which we had come, but lying on its starboard
side in the sandy shallows at the end of the
channel. The sea was lapping a foot below
the toerail. Our keel was digging into the soft
seabed with the anchor rode straining against
the boat. We were stuck fast and we had time
to assess our situation.
First thing was for us all to don lifejackets,
and throw essentials such as passports, phones
and drinking water into the grab bag always
kept in the cockpit lazarette. I knew we were
not at high tide, but was unsure of tidal levels
or precisely when high tide would occur. With
one ‘mature’ male on board and two women,
one who isn’t a strong swimmer, a call to the
Oman Coastguard seemed appropriate. Asli
made the call in anticipation they’d respond
more quickly to a female voice.
The telephone number for the Oman
Coastguard command centre was on the front
of our sailing permit and our call was answered
quickly. The Omani offi cer spoke perfect
English and quickly understood our situation.
We provided both our local position and GPS
coordinates and were promised assistance soon.
In case we had to abandon Rahala, I launched
our dinghy and tethered it to the stern.
Anticipating an insurance claim, I took a few
photos of our instruments
and the boat to record our
position and situation. We
also undertook a thorough
inspection inside and out
and – everything visible
seemed intact and the
bilges were dry.
After the initial blast,
the wind quickly subsided
to around 10 knots but
I was concerned it would
return. With the promised
response from the
Coastguard, reduced wind
and calmer crew, we made
ourselves busy attempting
Barry regularlay
cruises his Sun
Odyssey 36 around
the Omani coast
The Omani Coastguard
responded quickly,
sending both their own
launch and a naval vessel
THE LEARNING CURVE
