We were on passage from the Solent to Poole and the shipping forecast that morning was for north westerly force 7 occasionally 8. It was the last day of a five-day course, our best route was via the North Channel in order to avoid the overfalls at the Needles.

We were keeping close inshore to make our passage as smooth as possible and to avoid the foul tide that I expected soon after crossing the Christchurch Ledge. Whilst the Ledge is capable of producing some very large waves, I felt with an offshore wind and the fact that it was soon going to be slack water, there was not much danger of serious overfalls. As we approached the Ledge, close hauled on the starboard tack under working jib and with two reefs in the main, I decided to go below and make coffee.

One of the crew, Graham decided that he would pay a visit to the heads. The kettle boiled and I began to pour water into coffee mugs carefully positioned on top of the gimballed cooker. At this point there was a shout from cockpit of “hang on down below”. We started to climb rather as if we were in a fast moving lift and then seemed to stop as we were hit by an enormous breaking wave. Henry Morgan then began to fall; everything appearing to be happening in slow motion until we landed in the trough beyond on our port side with the most horrific crash that I have ever heard at sea. The coffee mugs leapt off the cooker and splattered the entire galley area with coffee; the saloon table was wrenched off the cabin sole and landed upside down on the portside saloon bunk.

Graham relaxing with a cup of coffee

Having checked that the crew in the cockpit were still with us and that no one was hurt, I returned to the saloon to secure the table. It was then that I heard a feint and rather muffled cry of “help" coming from the heads. I had completely forgotten about Graham and shouted through the door to ask him if he was all right. “No, I’m stuck”, he replied. So I opened the heads door to find a completely empty heads area. “Where are you” I said, feeling rather puzzled. “I’m stuck in here he said from behind the open door”. I peered round the end of the door where to my amazement, there was Graham all 5' 1” of him folded neatly into the hanging locker with his feet sticking out over the locker’s sill, still with his trousers round his ankles, and with his head jammed securely between his knees! He reassured me that he had in fact entirely finished and explained, to my great relief that he had completed every aspect of the operation except actually replacing his trousers. He also said that prior to his becoming lodged in the locker he had in fact been momentarily suspended on the deck head before somersaulting into the locker as we were knocked down.

Graham has been sailing with me on a regular basis for five years since this incident, and I have noticed that any long visits to the heads have been restricted to periods either when we have been securely tied up alongside or in winds of less than about force 6!