A 50th birthday celebration on a catamaran in the south of France turned into a terrifying ordeal when ferocious winds, a dragging anchor, and a trapped mother made for a week of constant fear and unexpected bonding.
From Glamour to Disaster
The trip began with high hopes: a catamaran full of loved ones floating into azure waters, taking pictures, and feeling glamorous. Amy Fleming had been reunited with her sister and family, who live in Australia, for the first time in three years after Covid. Her brother-in-law, a fearless Australian giant, had taken up sailing and offered to take Amy, her then 77-year-old mother, and their three teenagers on a holiday in the south of France for the sister's 50th birthday.
Despite knowing that sailing could get rough—Amy's father had capsized them at the mouth of the River Dart when she was little—the generous invitation was too good to resist.
Ferocious Winds and Fear
It was October, and Amy had been hoping for warm, gentle conditions. Instead, the wind blew ferociously and stubbornly in the wrong direction. Soon, they were charging up mountainous waves, then crashing into the void beyond. While the captain calmly steered, Amy sat below, feeling as if she were in a disaster movie, realizing she hadn't even located the lifejackets.
Later, in safe harbour, she studied the wind speeds for the coming week and felt anxious dread about all of them dying. She wanted to beg the captain, who along with his children was far more daredevil than she, her sister, and her mother, to hug the coast the entire holiday and use the engine.
Hairy Days at Sea
Many hairy days ensued. Amy would point out the forecast to the captain—'look at the potential gusts!'—who would reply that it wasn't that bad. The crazy gusts came, at one point creating an urgent need to get the mainsail down. But the sheet (rope) was stuck. 'This is it,' Amy thought. The captain and her nephew eventually found a resolution. Another violent gust broke the sheet for one of the foresails.
Calamity at Anchor
Calamity can happen at sea even when at anchor. The galley had steep steps down to the bunks on either side, and one evening Amy's mother fell backwards down them. With hearts in mouths, they rushed to help. Luckily, nothing was broken—she was just shocked, battered, and bruised.
On the blowiest day, they anchored at a beach and went on a long walk. There's something lovely about watching your floating home bobbing peacefully from the shore, until you realize it's dragging on its anchor and heading straight for a Saint-Tropez regatta race. That night, Amy lay in her bunk, the sound of wind lashing the fibreglass hull, hoping they weren't quietly drifting into the path of an oil tanker.
The Defining Moment
On their return voyage, the wind was more in their favour, but the sea still tossed the boat about like a toy. The galley had a sliding door to the cockpit, the catch of which was temperamental, which meant it slammed open and shut whenever they suddenly lurched. Eventually, the door got jammed in its closed position, so to get in and out, they had to hoist themselves up through the hatches above their bunks. But Amy's mother—tiny, old, and still sore—couldn't do this.
She stayed in the cabin for at least 24 hours, uncomplaining as always. But when they wanted to explore the island of Porquerolles, they couldn't leave her there, unable to escape. So they cleared the draining board, lifted her onto it, and very carefully posted her through the window. This became the defining moment of their week at sea.
Gratitude Amidst the Chaos
It was far from the bikini-chilling holiday Amy had hoped for, but she was grateful for the bonding adventure with her loved ones and the complete distraction from her land worries and chores—and to her captain for being extremely patient with his naysaying guest.
