South of the Straits of Hormuz in the Sultanate of Oman is Musandam, known locally as the Arabian Fjords.

Stretching some 15km inland from the Arabian Gulf, steep, rocky mountains plunge into deep,
broad waterways only accessible
by boat, with a few traditional villages clinging to narrow foreshores.

To preserve the ecosystems, Omani regulations only allow a few lucky sailors access to the stunning scenery each year, where two resident pods of dolphins play alongside visiting boats.

Having obtained our permit from the Omani embassy in our home port of Dubai, my wife Judi, I and our co-owner Asli Plail excitedly planned our trip to Musandam on Rahala (Arabic for ‘voyager’), our Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 36i.

The crew were initially accompanied by the resident pod of dolphins during their cruise in Musandam

We set off mid March, anticipating temperate spring weather before the summer arrived.

After the two-day sail to Musandam, we enjoyed three days of cruising, dolphin watching and relaxing. Sunday, 19 March 
was to be our final night before heading home.

We’d checked weather forecasts and it seemed we had a small window to make the two-day sail south to Dubai before a storm front arrived.

The forecast for the next couple of days was for relatively calm seas and 10-15km winds.

To 
give ourselves an easy exit the next morning, 
in late afternoon we anchored towards the end of Kawr Nafizi channel opposite a shoreline village, just a few kilometres from our exit 
to the Arabian Gulf.

The anchorage was beautifully calm before the storm front arrived

Rather than sitting in the middle of the channel open to the elements
 and possible traffic, I picked a spot with a little shelter from a rocky outcrop and dropped our Danforth anchor, all 25m of chain and about 5m of rope – a ratio of over 5:1 to the depth.

We settled down to enjoy our last night in 
a picturesque location, chatted with a couple
 of villagers who came alongside in fishing 
boats and enjoyed supper in the cockpit. We tied our bimini back for a better view of the clear night sky.

Our first sign of anything untoward came just after 2000 when occasional lightning could be seen over the mountains and out at sea.
 Had we known the area better, we would have realised this was a warning to be heeded.

At around 2045, the wind suddenly picked up. We urgently started to clear away the remnants of dinner.

The wind howled, the anchor dragged and we ran aground

Asli was in the galley 
with my wife passing dishes and cutlery down to her. Before the job was completed and we could get more prepared, a hurricane-force wind howled down the channel, hitting us
from astern.

Accelerated by the mountains bordering the channel, the katabatic wind screamed like a banshee. Rahala, tethered by her anchor, held her position for a few seconds and then, without warning, heeled violently to starboard before flying around on the complete length of the anchor rode.

The boat that rocked


In the cockpit, Judi clung to the backstay and bimini frame to avoid being flung out of the boat. Later, she said it was like being on
a fairground ride.

Rahala motors into the Musandam inlets

Asli in the galley was thrown 
to the cabin sole by the sudden heeling. I had jumped down the companionway to turn on the engine battery in the hope I could get us out of trouble.

In the seconds this took, the boat swung around over 180° with the violent heeling leaving me to clamber up the side of the companionway steps 
to get back to the cockpit.

Strained by the tremendous wind and 
the weight of the boat, the anchor rode was stretched to its maximum.

Luck stayed with us; the anchor held fast and now, facing into the wind, the boat came to a halt, facing the direction from which we had come, but lying on its starboard side in the sandy shallows at the end of the channel.

The sea was lapping a foot below
 the toerail. Our keel was digging into the soft seabed with the anchor rode straining against the boat. We were stuck fast and we had time 
to assess our situation.

First thing was for us all to don lifejackets, and throw essentials such as passports, phones and drinking water into the grab bag always kept in the cockpit lazarette.

I knew we were not at high tide, but was unsure of tidal levels or precisely when high tide would occur.

With one ‘mature’ male on board and two women, one who isn’t a strong swimmer, a call to the Oman Coastguard seemed appropriate.

Asli made the call in anticipation they’d respond more quickly to a female voice.

Continues below…

From offshore sunset cruising to ocean survival in the Atlantic

A beautiful Atlantic cruise turns into a heavy weather situation for Maarten Zeeuwen

‘I saw flames licking out of the 
companionway’

Rosemary Young recounts fire breaking out on her family 
cruiser and shares the valuable lessons she learned

The telephone number for the Oman Coastguard command centre was on the front of our sailing permit and our call was answered quickly.

The Omani officer spoke perfect English and quickly understood our situation.

We provided both our local position and GPS coordinates and were promised assistance soon. In case we had to abandon Rahala, I launched our dinghy and tethered it to the stern.

The Omani Coastguard responded quickly, sending both their on launch and a naval vessel

Anticipating an insurance claim, I took a few photos of our instruments and the boat to record our position and situation.

We also undertook a thorough inspection inside and out and – everything visible seemed intact and the bilges were dry.

After the initial blast,
 the wind quickly subsided to around 10 knots but 
I was concerned it would return.

With the promised response from the Coastguard, reduced wind and calmer crew, we made ourselves busy attempting to refloat the boat.

Barry regularly cruises his Sun Odyssey 36 around the Omani coast

We swung on the boom, hung over the lifelines and used the windlass and engine, all without success.

Less than an hour after our call, the Omani Coastguard arrived with not one boat but two.

A Royal Oman Navy and a Coastguard launch came alongside giving us enormous relief.

The officer in charge explained they had urgent emergencies to attend to; high tide would 
be at midnight, and they promised to return.

Déjà vu

As midnight approached, we were becoming concerned when the Coastguard hadn’t arrived and we’d failed to refloat.

However, at around 0015, a Royal Oman Coastguard launch arrived. He brought his launch alongside and we tied to him with stern and bowlines.

After a few gentle manoeuvers by the Coastguard boat, Rahala was bobbing in unison with their boat. We were floating! Our relief was ecstatic.

It was approaching 0200 and we happily hosted the Coastguard team to tea and chocolate biscuits aboard Rahala. Later, before they left, they helped us move to deeper water in the centre of the channel and we reset our anchor.

The Omani Coastguard were extremely helpful

However, just before 0400, the katabatic wind returned, howling at nearly 60 knots. We were awake and prepared.

Rahala is hauled out to check the keel and prop

Again, the wind screamed down the channel, straining the rode and whipping up the sea. I decided to lift the anchor, leave the channel and motor out to 
the wide main waterway.

In pitch dark, with high winds and choppy seas, this was challenging, but once out 
of the channel, everything became more manageable.

We motored to the far end
 of the Musandam inlets where we had comfortably anchored the previous three nights.

For the third time that night, we set anchor
and tried to get some sleep.

A couple of hours later, an Omani Coastguard launch pulled alongside to check 
on us, and were obviously pleased to see we were all safe.

They asked us to make our way to Khasab Harbour, the small seaport outside Musandam, saying the storm front would make it too rough to attempt our passage to Dubai.

When we arrived in Khasab, the Coastguards provided a swinging mooring for Rahala, helped us tie up and even collected a longer, thicker rope to complement our mooring lines.

Once secure, they hosted us to a grilled tuna and salad lunch in their port office and later, one of their officers ferried us to a local shop.

We attribute surviving the beaching due 
to the strength of Rahala, to having the 
right anchor, and a fair amount of good 
luck.

The timely and professional 
assistance of the Royal Oman Coastguard, however,  helped transform a potential disaster.

A few days later and back home in Dubai, we lifted Rahala out for an expert survey. No damage was found other than a little missing antifoul.

Lessons Learned

Take charge
Keep your communication tools fully charged
at all times. Had we not had the ability to contact the Coastguards, our predicament would have been far more frightening and the outcome possibly less positive.

Keep in comms
Keep contact details for key sailing authorities handy for the areas you’re sailing. Having
the phone and VHF contacts for the Royal Oman Coastguards readily at hand made contacting them straightforward. Their immediate response instantly reduced
our anxiety and stress.

Move with the tide
Keep relevant tide timetables to hand during any passage. We were sailing in an area of relatively small tidal movement. Knowing
the exact time of high tide and its height
would have saved us anxiety when the
boat didn’t initially refloat at the time
we were wrongly told was high tide.

Space out
When anchoring in areas close to steep
inclines that could create katabatic winds,
leave sufficient space for the maximum possible, or even a 360° swing. Alternatively, have both a bow anchor out with plenty
of chain and a stern line strongly fixed.

Keep a weather eye open
Heed weather warnings – both official and informal. Although, the websites we consulted forecast winds of 10-15 knots in our general area, a local fisherman told us ‘wind’s coming’. We should have listened!