As my father in law often says “I’m always in trouble, it’s only the depth that varies”. Today I’m in deep.

Following 12 hours of refusal to pee on board and puppy dog eyes I cracked and decided to take the dog to shore in our small speed boat (aka large dinghy), weighing in at I guess about 500kg, for a widdle walk. During this James Bond manoeuvre I dropped dog with her master in shallow water, holding the dinghy back from washing up on shore then took it out into deeper water to drop the 15kg anchor to hold it in place while we walk.

Somewhere between dropping the anchor, and swimming to shore I pulled my back and struggled to make it up the steep concrete stairs to join the widdler’s ramble and began to realise that I had hurt myself pretty bad. Not wanting to ‘wimp out’ from a little pain, I suggested it was too hot for a long walk and we began a slow return to the beach, at least what was left of, it as the tide was now fully in. I begin to wade out to the dinghy and swim the remaining 20m. Grappling the side of the dinghy I fail to board from either side and use the rear engine with prop as a foot up, realising but ingnoring the risk of a cut foot.. at this stage I JUST needed to get on the bloody dinghy and get back to the boat with the crew so I could lay out.

Long story short I got on board, raised the anchor, started the engine, picked up crew and returned to big G with my lower back in spasms and the onset of intense pain. Hence began my cocodamel laiden first 24 hours laid out flat and the onset of some darker thoughts that calling 999 fo an ambulance isn’t as straight forward on anchor 10 miles from the mainland, and while Janine is more than able to lift the anchor and sail us back to shore, it is not something she had done alone, w'e’re two months into this adventure and she’s learnt so much but asking her to sail solo was too much! We agreed to buy some time, the weather looked good for the next few days, but gradually the boats around us dissappeared as did any plea for assistance.

Waking the next day I could move a little, now plying myself with anti- inflamatories surmising that I’d popped a disc and reducing the inflammation would be the quickest road to mobility and recovery, with the addition of two tight belts to support my back as a makeshift lumbar corset. We plan our departure, with me gradually and slowly guiding Janine around what would be my boy (dirty) jobs; preparing fenders, lines, raising dinghy the final few feet into her cradle, and putting the BBQ away that was left out intentionally for another amazing sunset meal that never happened.

We consulted the Almanac for Etel only 8nm away, (not wanting to retrace our steps back to Lorient, where the main hospital is found), and called them to receive a thumbs up for space. Timing wise was in our favour, Etel is approachable at HW -120 to -90 minutes determining a 2:30pm departure from our anchorage on the Ile de Groix. With the risk of an anchor tangle out of the way we set off, with me able to stand reasonably comfortably, but not sit.

We began our approach to Etel, engines on, no sails today, keep it simple. Marina advised we will need assistance docking we try to be the first in to avoid congested pontoons. We saw a French Warship on AIS anchored close to our trajectory and decided, after a brief announcement we didn’t fully understand on 16 that it may be better to call them up on VHF channel 06 and ask what area we should avoid, rather than entering a no-go zone and be escorted out. We were kindly guided to travel on a bearing of 115 degrees to avoid the zone but that took us 5nm south of our direct route.

Nonetheless we arrived at the entrance to the Etel river at the panned time, actually slightly early, and now had the moving sand bar to deal with. Very helpfully there is a semaphore tower with a well informed chap who provides ‘left a bit, right a bit’ guidance on Chanel 13, like an aircraft landing in fog, we turned here and there and safely made it over the bank and charged into the river at 9knots with the flooding tide. Magic.

Switching to channel 9 we declare our imminent arrival in Etel Port and the welcoming rib pops out to point our spot and jumps ashore onto the pontoon while I twiddle the engine sticks to ferry glide us across the river to bounce softly into the pontoon and he takes the front mooring line from Janine. Now secure and safe until the tide turns we begin tidying up before taking the dog for another delayed widdle walk. The frustration being that she had been using the fake grass for the first two nights of anchor but now no more! No more anchoring for us until this changes :-(

[Edit: the anchor windlass stopped working a week later, thank goodness it didn’t happen at the same time as above]

Update 2 weeks later: We spent 6 nights at Etel and my self-diagnosis it takes 12-24 weeks for recovery with relapse a big risk, a sneeze, cough or stumble could set me back (excuse the pun), the good news is that 2 weeks of strong anti-inflammatories will help the swelling reduce enough for the spinal nerve pain to subside. However, I’m now beginning week three and while I’m mobile most of the day, the mornings are a struggle with shooting pain down my left leg, trapped nerve type pain. It eases off as I begin to move.

With a marked improvement in mobility and pain we moved from Etel to Halogen for a couple of nights before moving again to Crouesty to meet my mum, brother and his fiancé for a week to celebrate my mum’s 70th birthday. It’s been great to see them, the weather has not been favourable most days, with rain stopping play, but we’ve sailed to a Houat island for a lunch stop and moved to Trinite for a couple of nights, having extra hands around has been super helpful and given me more time to rest and recover some more.

To be continued... Now two weeks later, I’m off the ibuprofen taking a couple of paracetamol occasionally to relive the feeling of an irritating trapped nerve in my right leg, mostly occurring at night in bed, but otherwise my back is much better as well as my left leg. My recover has been hindered and slowed by living on a boat, especially spending three days on my knees in the port engine room diagnosing and finally replacing the fresh water pump which has been working very hard. I am now much more mobile walking at least 2km per day, but not with pace, carefully and more like a wide gated shuffle than a confident walk. But each day sees progress, and I am confident I’ll make a full recovery soon, given time, and avoiding doing anything stupid to set me backward.