Travel Reference
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and yelling my name at the top of her lungs. I managed to yell back in a weak, reedy voice,
“Throw me a rope; throw me a rope, quick.”
I continued to paddle exhaustedly, not seeming to make any headway, when I saw a line
snake out to me but too far out of reach. It was pulled in and thrown out again, this time a
little closer. I was all done in at this stage and started to sink again, slower to rise then the
first time, and this time took in a lot of water in my aching lungs. I couldn't breathe. It was
the worst feeling I have ever felt, and I choked and spluttered to get the water out. Blindly
I saw the rope, and with my last ounce of energy, splashed out towards it and just managed
to grab a hold of it. My hands were like claws, but I held on tight. I instinctively knew that
if I let this lifeline go I would surely sink from view and drown.
Jude saved my life; she towed me through the water until I was up against the transom, and,
somehow she got me over the back rail and into the safety of the cockpit. I collapsed on
the seat and threw up from exhaustion and the water in my lungs and stomach. She helped
me down below where she wrapped a towel about me and rubbed me dry like a dog. She
produced a sleeping bag and said, “Get in quick. You've got to get warm, or you will get
hypothermia.” I did not know at that stage what it was, but I didn't argue and soon was
lying on the bunk, wrapped in a sleeping bag and shaking like a leaf trying to calm down
and get warm. It took about half an hour and a few mugs of sweet tea with whiskey to
calm me down and start thawing me out. I was once again so grateful for and proud of my
sweet, American wife. I shall never forget that incident on the Vaal Dam that winter night.
I had learned yet another valuable lesson - a little humility - and had a lot more respect
for Mother Nature. Early the next morning after a fitful sleep, we awoke to the sound of a
guttural Dutch accent, “Hey Yonatin and Yudi, I gots yorr dinghy here man. I found it yus'
now at the other end of the shore!”
Time passed by on the Vaal, and we spent it completing projects on the boat. The mast was
finished at home and transported down one Saturday morning where a couple of friends
offered to help us erect it on the water. The Oregon timber spar was carried out to the wa-
ter's edge with all her stays and halyards pre-fitted and left long to be trimmed off later
when erected and the right lengths determined. Two dinghies were assigned the job to carry
the thirty-three-foot solid mast to Déjà vu.
Once there, and not without a struggle, she was hoisted aloft on top of the deck and posi-
tioned with her heel touching the secure shoe on the cabin roof. The mast was deck stepped,
so she did not need a crane to drop her through down to the sole in the cabin. Four lines
were fastened to the top of the mast, and we started to walk it up. Eager linesmen stood
positioned at the extremes of the boat and up she went with her heel being smartly attached
to the shoe on deck.
