A float on Miracle - 20ft narrowboat

10 May.

There's green slime on my jeans.
I unzip my jacket pocket, and my phone is dry and the light is flashing to let me know I've missed a call.
In a moment of facination I note that my bra is still dry.
**Brilliant. **

It's my birthday.

Ok, well not really; I was born in the fall.
But today marks my birthday as a proper boater, er because of my fall; into the river Lee that is.

It's windy.
It's also pretty wet out.
But I failed to notice both of these things a few hours ago.
It wasn't relevant until I was coming back from getting water.
A more experienced boater would have noted both these things,and known.

It's so windy that Miracle didn't stand a chance of staying against the river bank once I'd cut the engine.
Instead in the 30 odd seconds it took me to get the rope and try jumping for the bank we were already a drift a good metre out.

No, I didn't jump.
My ankles are too dodgy for that.
I started to walk backward along the gunnel to the stern.
I started, as did the rain.

I'm clumsy at the best of times.

Other boaters laugh that I hold on at all times.
Today, I was holding on but I slipped off what are probably the widest gunnels on the river.

Classy.

I'm hanging by one arm up to my thighs in the river.
Behind me I can hear the BMC engine of the Norwegians 58 footer approaching.
I can't see his boat.

I'm thinking of his prop.

I can't get sucked into it.
**
That.would.be.bad.**

I'm slipping.

I've only got three fingers on the rail.
My waist is now submerged.
My blackberry is in the pocket of my coat and my mind flashes back to the conversation I had with the designer..
"completely taped and waterproof, even the zips" he'd assured me.
I'd bought the coat partly because I wanted to show him I believed in him, partly because I didn't own a waterproof.

God. I hope he was right.

I hear the engine of the approaching boat slow.
Miracle, with me clung to her side are now nearly in the middle of the river.
The wind is pushing us quickly.

Please let him notice I'm not on my boat.

"Pull yourself up" clearly he's noticed.

Helpful, I think to myself. I'm annoyed. I want to yell back "No Shit" but I am to tired to argue and this isn't the time.

I wrap my other hand around the fender rope, and try to do just that.
I can only manage my elbows on the gunnel.
I'm kicking my feet to try and tred water and raise myself.
My jeans are flailing around my legs, my shoes are heavy and feel like weights.
It's cold.

I'm losing my strength and sink lower.

Then, I breathe.

I need to think.

I can't get up on the gunnel.
I've got to find another way.
My engine is off.
That's a grace.
I pull myself to the stern.
I should be able to get up here.
It's a few inches lower.
The outboard has metal bars around it and supports at 45 degrees.
I swing my body and try to get purchase on the supports.
I fail.
I try again and get my foot against it.
The Norwegian is yelling directions at me.
I can't make them out over the wind.

I'm getting this though.. it's gonna be ok.

The next thing I remember is sitting on my deck.

The Nowegian's lashing Miracle to his boat.
I'm panting, unable to move.

There's a lot of swearing and three tries before he manages single handedly to moor us.

When he gets back onboard he just looks at me and shrugs.

• "I guess women don't have a man's upperbody strenght"*
  
  

Well, I don't.