b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Water, boats and all that floats » Page 1 | Search
This is a question Water, boats and all that floats

Scaryduck hasn't changed the question because he's away drinking on a boat. So.

Tell us your stories of drinking and sinking, in piddly little pedalos all the way up to that oil tanker you "borrowed" ...

(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 19:34)
Pages: Popular, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

that sinking feeling
Having moved from the seaside in Devon to oop north with little kids, the only place we could take our little rubber dingy was on the old abandoned canal.

Cue me taking my 2 yr old and my friend's 1.5 year old for a trip along the least manky bit. I'm not a very good swimmer but for some reason I was the one in the boat while my then wife and our friends walked along the bank.

The kids were having a marvellous time when all of a sudden there were a lot of bubbles and not much of a boat. I panicked about drowning the kids and my wife diving into the canal head first to save them. She needn't have bothered though. As the boat became nothing more than a piece of rubber I felt my feet sink into disgusting mud and then hit the bottom, leaving me standing up waist deep in filth and water. We grabbed a kid each and I supported my wife as she climbed out, then handed the remaining sprog.

She then walked off leaving me to fail hilariously at scrambling up the slimy bank, attempting to pull myself up on the plank with nails in that had done for the dinghy. My friend on the other bank just watched and laughed through the whole incident.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 16:09, Reply)
I think pilots call it a ‘black hole illusion.’ A suitably ominous term for the feeling of disorientation caused by approaching a fixed light in darkness, with no other visual stimuli. I had something like that happen to me once. Unfortunately, it was at the bottom of the fucking ocean.

It was my first ever night dive, so I was already apprehensive. After a probably ill-advised beer, me and my two friends suited up, flicked our torches on, jumped off the back of the boat, grabbed the anchor rope, and began a slow 30-metre descent to the sea bed.

If you’ve ever been in the off-shore sea at night, you’ll know how completely black it is. Turn your torch off for a moment and you’re not even sure if your eyes are open. It’s eerie as fuck, and only slightly alleviated by knowing your friends are close by.
I reached the anchor in the sand first, and glanced over my shoulder to check their progress.

All looked ok. Two bright spots of light steadily approaching me. Then something odd happened. The rear light shot up rapidly. The front light spun round in a circle. Both shot forwards and backwards, up and down, round and fucking round, weird jerky movements like they were being attacked. With no frame of reference, my head couldn’t process this and basically shut down. It’s like being in limbo. Everything spatial that you take for granted every moment of the day – up is up, down is down, there’s the floor, there’s the sky – disintegrates completely. I started panicking, squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think about anything else other than where the fuck I was.

The nausea passed, I opened my eyes and looked at my own torch. Ok, at least that was working. But unfortunately I was completely lost now. I’d been spinning around and screaming bubbles and had no idea which way I was facing. I was just suspended in complete blackness. I rotated my head looking for my friends’ torches – no sign of them. I can’t overstate the terror I felt at that moment. It literally felt like a nightmare. Alone at the bottom of a black sea, confused and lost, with an inexplicable force taking your friends away. I still have vivid dreams about it, something I always thought was Hollywood bollocks.

Trying not to go mental, I very slowly began sweeping my outstretched torch hand in a circle. About halfway through I spotted some rocks – thank fuck, there’s the sea bed.

I was floating upright, completely upside down. But at least I knew that now.

After a minute of barely-suppressed hysteria, I managed to find the anchor and shot right back up to the surface, including an extremely impatient safety stop. I flopped onto the back of the boat. I can admit it, I was sobbing my fucking heart out.

“I lost me mates! Me head’s fucked! Where are me fucking mates? I think a fucking shark got them! A FUCKING SHARK! Oh FUCK! Me maaaaates! WAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

“Alright you idiot, calm down” said … my mates. Behind them a Japanese woman in full scuba kit was apologising profusely.
When we jumped in, this lady – an instructor with a group of novices – thought my friends were part of her group who’d decided “Fuck it” and gone for an impromptu, unprepared night dive. So she dived in and wrestled them back to the surface, explaining the little light show I’d been treated to, and my brief underwater journey into madness.

Sometimes when people are late for appointments nowadays, these friends take great delight in asking “You don’t think a FUCKING SHARK got them do you?”
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 15:48, 5 replies)
Got about with this posh bird - well filthy.
I did the whole "sensitive artist" bit and she got her norks out. Good norks.

Anyway - it didn't last.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 14:55, 4 replies)
Where does that rope go?
So there I am, on a nice little run down to the final marker at the end of a race when I capsized. Bugger, arse, shit. So have a quick glance at the ropes before righting, just to make sure nothing is tangled. "Red and white, main; fine. Yellow, vang; fine. Black and yellow...black and yellow? Which one is black and...Holy bejeebussweetmotheroffuck"

I do a rather good impression of a submarine launched ballistic missile as I exit the water vertically and cling for dear life to the top of the boat, as far aware from that bastard as possible.

Outside of breeding season I know they're fairly docile; but finding a sea snake next to you is never much fun.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 14:24, 1 reply)
hms vodka
as some of you may be aware, i have a friend who i like to get drunk and play silly buggers with. a couple of months ago, we had the opportunity to do just that.
arriving at her house in the early evening, i found her and her sister already well into their second bottle of wine. all seven of their children had been palmed off on in-laws for the weekend, so there was some serious hair-letting-down to be done. realising i had a bit of catching up to do, i poured myself a vodka and we got down to the business of slagging off our boyfriends.
now, in the kitchen was a small plastic bath, the sort used for bathing babies. as i was pouring myself a drink, i thought it looked a bit like a boat. as the evening wore on and i became more and more pissed, the more i thought it'd make a great little boat.
this is why, at about 11.30, my friend heard me yell "debbie! where's the mop? i need it to row the boat!"
debbie and her sister, desperate to see what the fuck i was up to, came into the kitchen to find me sitting in the baby bath in my nightie, attempting to row it across the kitchen floor with a long-handled spatula.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 13:44, 2 replies)
Obligatory sea sickness story
Back in 2007 I invited a few mates to Devon (Paignton to be exact) for a party. A couple of friends (Rob and Adam) arrived a few days before as I had arranged for us to take a small boat out of Brixham for some sea fishing (Adam and I love angling and thought it would be a great day out).

At about 6pm on the night before we went, I was waiting for the skipper to call me and let me know if it was ok to head out in the morning (rough weather etc). He said it would be choppy but ok to fish. That evening, myself, Rob and Adam drank too much red wine, watched Jaws and didn’t go to sleep until the early hours! Come 6am when we had to get dressed and head over to Brixham harbour. All three of us were feeling very poorly. We also skipped breakfast but thought bringing beer would be ‘good fun’.

After spending about 90 minutes heading out to some of the wrecks we were going to fish, the sickness started.... and it never stopped! Oh god.....oh god....

The whole day (about 7/8 hours) was literally spent trying not to fall off the boat as it was so choppy or be sick on ourselves. Between us, we only managed to catch 4 fish! The only way to describe how I felt was like I was a tube of toothpaste which had been squeezed dry! Even now when I think of that day on the boat, I want to go into a foetal position and cry!

I remember talking to the skipper when we arrived back at the harbour about how bad we had all been. He just shrugged and said he sees it all the time! He also said that he gets land sickness (often when he is in the pub) after a few drinks!

I have a lovely photo of myself holding a yellow bucket on that boat (if I can find it I'll upload it).
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 13:39, Reply)
Reconstituted dried pea
Mumbles Regatta in the early 1980s. I was rowing in a four and we'd have to walk the boat out by wading up to our knees before getting in, to avoid getting the boat scraped by the pebbles.

Which meant getting our feet wet. Being soft jesses, we'd wear out trainers to avoid hurting our feet on the pebbles, discarded broken Felinfoel bottles, etc. but had to take them off again in the boat to fit our feet into the stretchers (being a proper racing boat, there were shoes nailed to them that you'd put your feet in, for better and more reliable grip than using leather straps to secure your own shoes).

My own trainers were cheap & cheerful black ones, whose dye seemed to be making the water at the bottom of the boat (being on the sea racing parallel to the shore meant the waves would slop over the gunwales a bit) turn vivid blue.

Or so I thought - in a later heat that afternoon, I waded out in my socks and the water slopping over the sides was still the colour of Platignum blue ink. Looking across the bay, the steel and chemical works of Swansea and Port Talbot waved back, belching all kinds of smoke into the sky and god knows what into the water.

Haven't been swimming at Mumbles since then.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 12:39, Reply)
something something something One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 12:21, 1 reply)
A bunch of us once took a boating holiday on the Norfolk Broads...
One fine afternoon, we moored at a pub for a lunchtime 'sesh'.
About an hour in, the voice of god issued forth from the ceiling proclaiming, "Would the occupants of XXX please return to their vessel as it appears to be sinking".
We found this rather funny, bound to be a wind-up, and what the hell - none of our boats were called "XXX".
Some hours later, as we merrily staggered along the tow-path, we encountered a large boat, submerged up to its roof, with four very dejected guys sitting on the bank staring at it.
Turned out it wasn't a wind-up after all.
We found this hilarious.
The guys on the bank - not so much.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 11:45, Reply)
Not a good time to remember
A couple of years ago I went on a whitewater rafting trip down the Rio Jacare in Brazil. It was the first time I had done it, and it turned out to be quite a thrill: bursts of adrenaline-pumping terror with nice calm drifts between them.

About half way down, the guide pulls the boat over to the side, in an area where the water flows shallowly over some flat rocks. He explains that we're now going to find out how to go down rapids without the aid of something I'd previously assumed to be essential equipment: a boat.

We line up at the edge of the rock shelf, and he explains the correct position for your legs - the key point being not to allow rocks to slam into your knackers as you go down. I made sure I had that down pat. One by one we dropped into the water, and drifted down to the next set of rapids. Ahead of me I saw the procession of people dropping over the edge, and then it was my turn.

A few seconds of swirling, roaring disorientation, a few minor bumps, and I was apparently over the rocks. But... something's wrong. I'm not coming up. Arse. I seem to be caught in a vortex, going round and round but staying under the surface. I remember two things very clearly: first, despite always having a mortal fear of drowning or suffocating, I am remarkably calm, simply hoping that I pop up before oxygen becomes too distant a memory. And secondly, that it was at precisely that moment that I finally remembered what "Rio Jacare" translates as: Crocodile River.

Then I was hauled out by one of the guides, who looked rather relieved that I was still breathing.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 11:42, Reply)
Don't grab the branches!
On holiday c.1994 with my then boyfriend and his parents in France. We decided to hire twin kayaks and canoe down the Dordogne.
At that point The Dordogne is not very deep, fast flowing or hazardous.

We travelled merrily with the current, admiring the view and catching the rays, my boyfriend and I in one kayak and his parents in front in another.

At one point we drifted and were encountering quite a few low hanging branches, commenting to my boyfriend just lay back and don't grab any branches. Totally ignoring this comment (which may have been the start of the breakdown in our relationship!)he grabbed hold causing our kayak to continue with the current and leading us to capsize in the only part of the dordogne deep enough to swim (drown) in.
Resulting in slow motion capsizing and being dragged under by the current (much like it's always portrayed in films!) and eventually surfacing and managing to expel the tirade of swears and dordogne river water!

While this fun and games was going on his parents looked back to to see the furore that had enschewed. In a panic his mother decided it would be a good idea to grab the branches resulting in a repeat performance.

I'd like to point out that this was quite a busy part of the Dordogne and a sizable amount of people were on the banks of the river and we were now drawing quite a crowd (and at least one video camera, this was the 90s after all!).
Lot's of swearing, retrieving of objects and moaning (mostly by soon to be ex!) we managed to get ourselves sorted and were met with a round of applause!
I'd like to think we appeared on the french version of 'You've Been Framed'.

Outcomes: One bump to the head (me), one microscopic cut to toe (my soon to be ex). Lost: one sock. Gained: one small child's t-shirt!

tl:dr English people fall out of canoes may have appeared on french tv
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 10:55, 1 reply)
I went on loads of canal holidays as a kid...
My parents being the type of who thought that holidays should be character building rather than fun. As a family we went on holidays on the Llangollan canal, Friesland in the Netherlands and the Canal Du Midi. My main recollection is one of being bored out of my tiny mind, but from time to time the boredom would be interspersed with the drudgery of being made to do some work. This would usually involve helping to negotiate our narrow boat through one of the many locks whilst my dad screamed instructions at me (imagine the dad from Friday Night Dinner crossed with Captain Bligh) sometimes there were lock keepers to help but being a boy and the eldest child I was usual responsible for doing all the cranking, winding, opening and closing etc. One incident that really sticks in the mind though, is having to negotiate this bastard...

Called The Fonserannes locks, I must have been about 12 years old, and inevitably, I was the poor sod holiding the rope on the footpath whilst the weather decided to hurl 50 shades of shite at me - wind, rain, sleet, snow, engine parts - whilst my dad danced about the boat sreaming instructions at me like Hitler getting to the climax of his speech at rally for the third reiche. Let's just say by the end of the experience I was not a happy bunny.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 9:43, 2 replies)
Mate of mine ..
.. once spent half his summer vacation going from southern Denmark to Oslo, Norway in a small boat. He had a great trip, apparently. To pay for the vacation he carried a modest load of about 100 grams of hash that he bought in northern Germany. Apparently the street price in Oslo was about four times the price that he paid in Flensburg.

Upon arrival in Oslo it dawned upon him that 1) he didn't know anyone he could trust there, and 2) the penalties for drug trafficking in Norway were pretty harsh.

So he made a phonecall to another mate that was an even bigger pothead. And by all accounts they also had a great trip back home.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 9:38, Reply)
I like boats.
Used to have a small catamaran, which I kept at Studland in Dorset. Many drunk weekends camping and sailing there.

I went back for the first time in about 15 years during last summer, and hired one of the little cats they have at the beach. Took my 8 year old daughter sailing for the first time.

At work I quite often have to go and see ships loading. We have about 12 of them, that's always interesting. One time took a colleague to see one, she had never been on one before. I was in usual jeans, teeshirt and old trainers, as they're normally pretty dirty places. She turned up in heels and a suit. Amused the crew, anyway.

My wifes sister lives in Rio, and they have a boat there. We go there once a year and always go out island hopping. Simply can't beat that for a day out.

Pic of it.

(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 9:21, 7 replies)
All that floats?
Does that include quads?

Found that if you think you are in a low gear but haven't actually changed down due to a crappy connection and are still in 4th while on a small pier during a sleet storm in February on an Island off the coast of Ireland trying to turn around your quad will take off, go over the barrier on the side of the pier.

20ft drop into about 5 foot of water (any less and I would have bounced off the stones at the bottom and if i hadn't jumped when i realised shit hit the fan the quad would have landed on me so was quite lucky.

What has this got to do with floating?

Turns out quads float upside down with the tops of the 4 tyres poking above the water as it slowly floats away from anyone trying to rescue it.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 9:21, Reply)
Family adventures in boat owning
Now I don’t know boats all I know is I think it was a cruiser it had 2 small beds below deck and you could comfortable hold a dozen in the back.

First run out nearly the whole family (not me though) is on it. Go through all checks and realise they don’t have a depth finder with them and it doesn’t seem worth the trouble of driving 2 mins back up the road. So with a “sure we’ll be grand” off they went.

Now sorry but I must give a bit of info on our pier area, 2nd deepest port in Ireland (small town in Donegal, Ireland and a very very strong current which meant that it can go from 140ft deep to knee deep in about 10ft and a mix in currents due to the Atlantic meeting the river Swilly so there is constantly changing sandbanks and channels.

Anywho back to the story, they get a bit down the way and everything going grand when the boat comes to a shuddering stop throwing everyone forward in what I’m sure was a hilarious sight with cartoony sound effects.

They had managed to ram the boat not only into but also on top of a sandbank. Cue much dicking around trying to rock it off, reverse it off and no doubt praying to Poseidon himself. Eventually another boat came by and spotted them so a guy grabbed a rope and jumped off into the water and started walking towards them, yip walking, the water was that shallow where they were you were ankle deep despite being in the middle of the lough.

Long story short they eventually got off (fnar fnar) and the lad helping was only stung a few times by jellyfish and a snapped rope across the chest.

Fast-forward a few weeks and I’m home for a few days and my uncle want to take the boat out and test it out after the “incident” so grand lovely time to check and recheck we have everything. Depth finder yip, check again yeah depth finder and GPS yeah have everything and off we go.

Everything going grand all systems are working fine except the engine is sounding odd…. Then there was no sound from the engine. Balls. Open the cover and look in, can’t see anything special about it, no smoke no odd smell just a bit of water but that’s normal right? Hmmm seems to be more and more water, yip more water is coming in from somewhere. Engine was flooded and not going anywhere. So there I am able to see people on shore walking and looking out as our boat sat silent slowly filling with water.

There was only one thing to do and that was ring the coastguard to rescue us. It was quite a scene from the pier as we are dragged and nudged in to the slip and winched out. By the time it was done there was a crowd watching us. We were talk of the town that night. Turns out despite all checks for equipment we forgot 2 things. The 2 rubber bungs at the back that allows water to be drained were sitting on the windowsill of my Grannys kitchen.

We sold the boat soon after

TL:DR My family should never get a boat.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 9:08, Reply)
one time I was in a boat, and I thought we needed a bigger one
lol jaws
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 8:04, 1 reply)
Chocky Goodness
After last weeks, QOTW, which was really a question for the marginally talented but, rather childish to post pictures of themselves in costume, which in my opinion was total crap and without doubt the WORST QUESTION OF THE WEEK EVER, as such it has given me inspiration for this post.

I am a fairly predictable type of a chap with very little creativity. I rarely come up with ideas on my own and much prefer to pinch them from other people but, give them little or no credit, a bit like Apple and, like Apple I am reasonably good at packaging them
An example of this, if you invite me to a party at your house, and you have a pool, pond, spa, fish tank or even in some cases, fill the bath full of ice to keep the grog cold and the ice melts a bit leaving a half ice half cold water set up, I will at some point slip a Chokito into the water.

For the uniformed, this is a Chokito:

Without fail, if I wait until the sun is setting or set and the pool lights are on, there will be at least 10 people at the party who over react to my prank. At one party, one slightly larger lady got so work up about it on the edge of the pool she slipped in right next to the Chokito which she imagined had floated up and attached its self to her resulting in screams from the pool along the lines of
“It’s on me, it’s on me, it’s on me, it’s on me............” repeat for a good few minutes and around 500 decibels.

Even when it was shown to be a chocolate bar she did not see the funny side of it at all.

This is another time it worked particularly well.

Should the Chokito float over to the edge of the pool you can for added effect, draw people’s attention to it, scoop it out with your hands and take a bite..................
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 2:42, 6 replies)
A shit day's fishing on a reservoir
Apologies for length, this is lazy copy pasta from my post on another site.

Boat 13 and I motored out with the cool breeze behind us, which had actually picked up to something more like a light gale. Despite the tailwind it seemed to take a long time to get over to the other side of the reservoir that had been recommended (the Stumps?) but if that’s where boat anglers had been catching fish, I had to be there. A 100 yards or so out from the bank I dropped anchor and this time put out my trusty medium sink line and began fan casting to search for the fish. For maybe an hour I aimlessly flogged the water as the light gale grew exponentially until it felt like I was out on the North Sea. I have no affinity with the briny depths, and decided this was unpleasant enough to warrant the long motor back to the other shore where the water was still relatively calm. Rod back in boat, Barbour battened down, anchor up, outboard in neutral, touch of throttle…let’s roll. I yanked the pull cord. Putt Putt. I yanked again. Putt Putt Putt. Again. Putt. Again Putt. Again….Again…..Again..
The starter cord hung limply in my hands, not even bothering to retract anymore, never mind start the engine. Glancing up I realised I was drifting toward the shore fast, so dropped anchor again before returning to my battle with the outboard.


After 30 minutes I knew she’d never start again. The wind and waves battered my boat, spray kicked up against my Barbour, and my leg began to develop an almost imperceptible tremor. “Shit. Now what?”
Just as I began to eye up the flare gun, I noticed another boat angler chugging towards me, obviously having witnessed my desperate yanking. “I’m heading back in, shall I go get help?” he shouted above the wind.
“Um…” I paused, shame welling up from my gut into my wind-burned cheeks. “Um..yes, I think you’d better . Thanks mate”
“Okay, cheerio!”
I watched him bouncing back across the waves to the lodge and sank into the bitterly uncomfortable thwart board on my impotent boat. No point holding back on the provisions now. I raided the goodies my girlfriend’s mother had kindly packed for me, and by the time I’d eaten my 6th Orio I felt quite chipper.


After what felt like a very long time, the comforting sight of the orange ‘rescue’ dinghy brought renewed hope. The warden pulled up alongside, lashed his boat to mine and quickly began attempts to restart the outboard. I felt sure he looked upon me as some form of nautical dimwit which, to be fair, I probably am but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get the engine started. “I’ll have to tow you in mate”
He rigged up a towrope between our boats, then gave the nod for me to pull up the anchor.


After 10 minutes it was clear the anchor was well and truly anchored. I’m a big lad, I reckon I could pull the ears off a gundog, but this anchor wasn’t budging.
“You what?!”
“I said, the anchor’s stuck”
Again, he manoeuvred alongside and tried where I had failed. He too failed.
“We’ll have to cut the rope. Have you got a knife” he asked
Minutes passed until he finally dug out a tiny pocket knife and proceeded to hack and slash at the thick rope. Eventually, he was through. We both cheered, and laughed, and let out sighs of relief. “Right, let’s get you back to the pier”

The orange dinghy could only have travelled a 2 or 3 yards before a there was a horrendous discombobulated chobbling noise, followed by a portentous silence. We both stared at his outboard. No. No. NO…. he lifted it up and there was the loose end of my anchor roped coiled into a Gordian knot around the propeller. I slumped back into the boat, no Oreo could solve this fug, nor would his tiny penknife undo this hemp horror anytime soon. This was bad. We were drifting towards the perilous shallows like daisy-chained Cuban refugees, driven by the incessant wind. But lo, what’s this? The pull cord on my outboard was miraculously back in its place! With a mighty heave the engine sprang into life! I looked back at my would-be rescuer. He briefly glanced up from his monstrous tangle, bid me farewell and suggested I tell the lodge to send out a search party if he wasn’t back in a couple of hours.
(, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 0:02, 3 replies)
Never let me have the paddles

(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 23:07, 1 reply)
"Yes, of course it will work"
Many years ago, my dad was building a raft for the (then annual) Maidstone raft race. In order to test the buoyancy of the barrels he was using, he cut the top off one, sat on the riverbank, and got a friend to push him in. The barrel - of course - instantly capsized, leaving his car keys full fathoms five. He trudged his weary way home to the house he and my mum shared, only to discover his house keys had followed them.

He didn't get inside for over five hours, and his general mistrust of boats still lingers.
(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 23:02, 1 reply)
My mate Sandy.
'Nuff said.
(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 22:44, 1 reply)
"It's only a drill round!"
Background: MrsScars and I met in Malta in a bar. The following year we went back on honeymoon.

We went back to the bar with a wedding photo to say thanks. The owner, who also ran boat trips invited us out for a spin in his pride and joy, an inshore racer with twin 200hp engines.
Belting down the coast at around 70 there was a loud noise and everything stopped. Banis got on the radio and asked Valletta Boat Control to ring the bar and have us towed.
We were sitting about chatting when there was a splash 50 feet away.
"Fuck" says Banis "Thought they weren't practicing today".
"Practicing what?" says MrsScars.
"Oh, artillery. Only drill rounds though."
"How big?" says I.
"75 millimetre; we're a small country. Big enough for us; I'll call the Navy and tell'em to stop".

Shortly afterwards a gunboat hoys up and a lot of Maltese shouting occurs.

The really frightening bit was the tow: racing boats don't like being dragged at 40 knots and we had to bail like fuck.

And he's still going strong:www.okikokibanis.com
(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 22:16, Reply)
bail fail.
I went sailing in a plastic type yacht thingy. I trod on the automatic bailer and it fell out the bottom of the boat. The boat then filled with water so I started bailing with my shoe whilst trying to reach the shore. I dropped my shoe into the water and it sank, so I used the other one. the boat sank further and then capsized, so I abandoned the other shoe, fell into the water and swam to shore. I then walked four miles home, shoeless and soaked to the skin. Then I got a bollocking for sinking the next door neighbors boat. I dont sail any more.
(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 21:56, Reply)
Since you asked...
I was on a ferry a few weeks ago, enjoying the bracing sea air up on deck, when my wife said "I know what'd be fun, let's recreate that scene from 'Titanic'!"

As I sank to the bottom of the English Channel, hypothermia setting in, I couldn't help but wish we'd done the 'King of the World' one instead.
(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 20:59, Reply)
Apocalypse Now
One Sunday around 10am, two housemates appeared in my room. They'd been up all night on the disco biscuits and wanted me to get up and come to the boating lake. I considered briefly and agreed, but I came up with a useful item to take with us.

And so that is how we ended up in a rowing boat with smuggled-on booze blasting out Ride Of The Valkyries and charging at the other rowers.
(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 19:56, 4 replies)
I was once on holiday in Spain
and we hired one of those self-pedalling boat things. I let my girlfriend do all the pedalling as I read a book, before I realised we were so far out from the shore, we were probably now in a shipping lane. She was happily swimming away with her snorkel looking at fish when all this began to dawn on me with the proximity of extremely large ships.

She was always bit mental, bless her :)
(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 19:55, 2 replies)
I once steered David Dimbleby's yacht while he pissed off the stern.

(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 19:45, 6 replies)

(, Thu 1 Nov 2012, 19:42, Reply)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 4, 3, 2, 1