Captain Mike

I don't have a lot of  nautical experience. And what I've had has not inspired me to seek more.

A channel crossing in 1964 was so rough that most of the passengers heaved and the side of the boat was decorated with multiple steaks of pebble-dash. A 'day trip around the island' of Spetse in 1980 was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a wind which conjured up a 10-foot swell from a mill pond in about 5 minutes, resulting in frantic orders to get back on the boat - and a scramble for the life jackets by many of the passengers.

I have taken control of a boat on just two occasions. Firstly a small rented craft on Lake Windermere in 1967 with friends Chris Jackson and Andrew Beckett, during which we came close to disaster by losing the starter handle overboard, and then a narrow boat in 1976, which turned into a survival challenge when the canal froze over.

Notwithstanding these inauspicious precedents, I was determined to hire a boat for a day during our week on the Greek island of Paxos last month. The prospect of finding a deserted beach inaccessible from the land where C and I could have a private, hopefully naked, swim, chill, and picnic was too tempting.

Unfortunately Stelios, the owner who had kept a boat in the water this late in the season especially for us, was less then impressed with my seafaring CV. He told us to stay on the east side of the island, away from the wind, and not to attempt the crossing to Antipaxos, the only place with sandy, as opposed to pebbly, beaches.

Also, rather than the modest little boat I expected we could beach and paddle ashore from, we get a sporty, almost new, 30HP number. This had to be kept in deep water and anchored when we stop - the only way ashore was by swimming. So there was no way to get a dry towel, picnic etc over to any beach we find!

Undaunted we set off and, crossing the first bay, were delighted to find ourselves chasing a shoal of flying fish - they really do seem to fly, perhaps 10m out of the water before re-entry. And the power of that engine when you push the lever up! It reminded me of my motor-biking days. Then at a certain speed the boat started to bounce a bit on the waves ...until C yelled at me to slow down and sadly I never did get to top speed.

We got to the northern end of the island and stopped and read a bit then pootled back south. We anchored at a bay with some apparently ruined houses and olive trees, downed the anchor and swam ashore but with nothing to sit or lie on it was not very comfortable. On the way back to the boat I got water in my snorkel and took it out to breath, forgetting it was not attached to anything. Down it sank, evading my desperate grabs.

There followed several pantomine attempts to retrieve it. I would swim to roughly where it was lying - directed by C on the boat, locate it using my facemask, then attempt to dive down to pick it up. C is quite explicit: "Just do a summersault!". But all my attempts come to nought. Try as I might I could not seem to get at the right angle to swim down. "Didn't you get your lifesaver certificate?!". (Actually I'm pretty sure I never had any swimming lessons at all, apart from Mum holding my trunks to stop me sinking aged about 7 in York Baths.)

I did manage to get vertical once, and started fierce breaststrokes downwards until I needed air, but never got remotely close to the wretched snorkel. Oddly the expert, C, never offered to have a go. "I could never open my eyes under water" doesn't really hold water as an excuse, excuse the pun, when there is a choice of 2 facemasks available.

Returned to port having lost a useful item, which had a vague symmetry considering my first outing as ship's captain, especially as this may well be my last. And managed to get tied up without crashing into the jetty.