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Sea survival trainingTraining for emergencies at sea

Ready for the worst case scenario? In the swimming pool, the participants of the survival-at-sea course practise climbing into the rubber raft
Photo: YACHT/B. Scheurer
Plugging leaks, extinguishing fires, getting into the life raft: during sea survival training, sailors learn how to act correctly in an emergency at sea. A lot is demanded of them. We wanted to find out what it involves - and took part

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Sunday morning, 8.30 am. The step forwards comes to nothing. A short drop into the depths, then water is everywhere. The buoyancy chamber of the lifejacket quickly fills with CO₂ from the cartridge and brings me back to the surface. It's a reassuring feeling, even though I'm now floating in the water fully clothed. Fortunately, it's over 20 degrees and the contents of a heated swimming pool in the small town of Elsfleth in Lower Saxony - and not the cold sea.

What is to follow in the next hour and a half may be awe-inspiring, but it is only a staged disaster. It is intended to prepare sailors to act correctly in an emergency out at sea. This course, which is offered by sailing schools, clubs and commercial providers throughout Germany, lasts two full days, i.e. a good 18 hours (to the provider overview).

The team led by Tobias Schultze from Fire & Safety Training in Elsfleth, where YACHT was a participant for a weekend, provides training at the Wesermarsch Maritime Training Centre. Junior nautical staff, experienced seafarers and employees from the offshore industry are also prepared for emergencies there.

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The helicopter crash

At the edge of the pool, for example, there is a gondola that represents a kind of helicopter cabin. This simulates the crash of an aircraft at sea. The cabin is submerged under water and turned upside down. The trainees then have to get out and swim back to the surface. A rescue diver sits opposite them and the water is quite warm and crystal clear. Nevertheless: a performance to get used to.

The survival training for sailors consists of practical and theoretical units on various emergency scenarios. The programme includes firefighting, leak defence and first aid at sea. The handling of distress signalling equipment and safety equipment on board is also practised. The centrepiece, however, is a simulated sea emergency in the wave pool.

The maritime emergency

This exercise is designed to be as realistic as possible. So on this Sunday morning in February, we participants, all cruising or regatta sailors from the North Sea coast, slip into oilskins, shoes and lifejackets. The instructors' tip is to wear plenty of clothes underneath and use your own lifejacket. However, many take up the organiser's offer to wear a waistcoat provided. These are semi-automatic models.

Trainer Tobias explains how we should jump into the water: put one hand on the trigger and take a step forwards from the edge of the pool. Keep your legs in a stepping position as you jump so that you don't dive too deep into the water. Then, when you touch the surface of the water, pull the trigger downwards with a short, strong - but not too strong - jerk.

One participant after another jumps and pops back to the surface like a cork. Everything still feels good and controlled! But it's only just beginning.

We have to familiarise ourselves and train to swim with the lifejacket. On the back and on the stomach. The latter works surprisingly well. The waistcoats provided have 190 newtons of buoyancy, quite long buoyancy aids and two crotch straps instead of one. This is a particular advantage for the men.

Test of unconsciousness

The test to see whether the waistcoat would turn a person over in the event of unconsciousness also works: hold your breath, turn onto your stomach and wait calmly. Nothing happens. Only after a few seconds does the yellow balloon in front of my chest slowly turn me onto my back. "It's quicker in swell," explains trainer Horst, who, as a lifeguard, is never far away with one of his colleagues.

The waistcoat is less tight around the neck than I had feared. However, the water now feels colder than I had hoped.

Tightly entwined, we drift through the basin with what until recently were complete strangers. Then it gets dark and the swell sets in!"

The caterpillar is used

Once everyone has paddled, swum and floated through the pool for a while, the first command echoes through the pool: "And now the caterpillar!". As discussed the previous evening, our chosen "skipper" forms the start of the human chain and the "co-skipper" the end. In between, we are to line up under Horst's guidance. And always with our backs to the person in front, who clasps their legs tightly around their own hips. Then the next person follows. The smallest and daintiest participants line up as far back as possible.

After all, seven people are connected. But how do they get going together? Skipper Klaas counts out loud: "One!" - all arms go up as discussed -, "Two!" - the arms dive into the water and pull through.

After the swimming caterpillar has made its "One!"-"Two!" circles through the pool, we have to save our strength. We have to try to attract help from the air to our little survival troop and form a circle without letting go. Tightly intertwined, we float through the water with what were until recently complete strangers.

Then it gets dark in the hall, and waves come!

Now it pays off if you have followed the tip to take out the oilskin hood before releasing the lifejacket. Otherwise you won't be able to reach it. You suddenly realise how useful it is when it suddenly gets wet from above: Simulated rain sets in - that too. It turns glasses into opaque lenses, contact lenses slip, vision and orientation are lost. A spray cap would probably pay off now, but nobody in the group has one on their waistcoat. But even the hood has an enormous effect:

The rain is less of a nuisance and the hooded umbrella keeps the view clear. Above all, however, the waves no longer slosh over the collar and into the oilskin. What's more, many bright yellow dots in the water would be easier for rescuers to see from the air in an emergency than lots of dark heads.

Pedalling to be found

To increase the chance of being spotted from a helicopter, the next exercise follows: our circle of people should push themselves apart with outstretched arms so that there is space for the legs in the centre to pedal. Not all at once, but every second person in turn.

Skipper Klaas counts off, then we're off. They all kick wildly into the water and churn it up. Would that be enough to be seen and rescued?

At least a little warmth spreads through the body as a result of the rapid leg movement. The activity has been going on for - yes, how long actually? - probably half an hour, is noticeable here and there with a slight tremor and blue lips. There is real anticipation of boarding the life raft. But first we have to get it upright!

The first wave lands in your face, collar, ears and mouth. Swallow, gasp for air, cough - stay calm!"

The life raft

The impressive twelve-person model floats with the roof down at the other end of the pool. Everyone should try it out for themselves and detach themselves from the circle - making sure that the two neighbours hook into each other again afterwards. It's only a few metres through the pool, but it's a tough one.

"Breathe in in the wave trough, breathe out at the top of the wave" was the advice given by the trainers at the start of the exercise. It's good, but you have to think about it first. Slosh! The first wave lands in your face, collar, ears and mouth. Swallow, gasp for air, cough. "Stay calm," I tell myself, "this is just an exercise."

So once again: Breathe in the wave trough, only exhale at the top. That works. Just as well this isn't salt water. Swallowing it would be far more unpleasant. Then we reach the island. A trainer is waiting to help. He allays the fear that the big black and orange thing will land on you when you turn around and you'll drown miserably under it. "That won't happen. If you land under it: stay calm! Push the floor upwards so that an air space forms. Then push yourself out to the side," is the instruction.

But first get this far! White lines are attached to the underside of the inflated hull. You have to fish for them, then brace your legs or feet against the air chambers if possible. Then pull until the monster rises up, overcomes the decisive point and tips towards you. It works and is not that difficult! However, the wind turbines, which could artificially create a storm and a deafening roar in the indoor pool, are currently switched off. "You can't stand that for long," Tobias Schultze had previously explained.

In an emergency at sea, you have to use the wind to your advantage when turning the island - even if that probably sounds a lot easier than it is.

Into the island

Climbing in is at least less difficult than feared. The practice model has an easily accessible foot loop and lines to pull yourself up. But if the water were colder and the strength had already waned, the almost 50 centimetres of freeboard on the life raft would probably feel like Mount Everest.

Unfortunately, the stay on the island doesn't last long. Everyone immediately gets out backwards and swims back to the group. Snorting, coughing, concentrating. The circle picks up the returnees. Skipper Klaas, who has the task of entertaining his group and keeping them happy, asks if everyone is OK. Silent lethargy should not even set in.

After Klaas is the last to turn the life raft and climb in, everyone has to follow. Lined up one after the other, they all shout "One! - Two! - One! - Two!" across the pool to the island, now under the guidance of the co-skipper. Whoever has lost the most energy by this point is allowed to get out of the water first and climb the rubber bulge. Although "out of the water" is no longer accurate.

From the pool to the pool

A sizeable puddle has long since formed in the paddling pool-sized raft. Nevertheless, it feels good to finally be inside, to be able to lean back and no longer have to constantly fear that a new wave will creep under your oilskin and into your orifices. Having a well-functioning life raft must be a blessing in an emergency!

However, new worries quickly arise when coach Horst announces that the roof of the island will now be closed. For a few minutes, we sailors are supposed to drift through the pool on the highest artificial wave in the dark. Stories about other participants feeding the non-existent fish in the pool during this exercise were already doing the rounds. It's no wonder that the question arises as to which opening in the island roof you can lean overboard through in case of doubt.

But everything goes well. The one-and-a-half metre waves do cause the islanders to sway. But overall, the feeling that they are in better hands here than in the water and have a real chance of being rescued prevails.

We are sitting in the wet, but there is plenty of room for six of us - one of the seven has given up after all - in the twelve-person model, which certainly contributes a little to the relaxed situation. The exercise is also very friendly in one respect: the life raft has already been aired out and no longer smells penetratingly of freshly unwrapped rubber, as would be the case when it is first deployed. This might have caused nausea here and there. Nobody is really angry that this is not the case.

The air rescue service

We are drifting towards the finale. For what comes next, the air should be released from the lifejackets' buoyancy chambers, as practised beforehand. Because help is on the way, from the air! A platform with a swivelling crane towers over the front part of the pool. While it "flashes" and "rains", two of the crew have to try to paddle the island over the waves towards the platform.

It represents the helicopter that can rescue us casualties from our predicament. Horst appears again at the edge of the island and assists: A loop is slowly and precisely lowered from the "helicopter". Arms up, loop around the upper body, pull tight. Lower your arms and secure everything with your hands.

One by one, they are lifted into the air and swung onto the platform, where instructor Tobias helps them to land. Whilst the staged inferno beneath their feet gains distance, it feels good to be "rescued". The same applies to the departure from the island: participants who are visibly exhausted go first.

When the automatic system fails

Anyone who is now longing for a hot shower while standing on the edge of the pool in soaking wet gear has rejoiced too soon. One last exercise awaits. Everyone inflates their lifejackets through the mouthpiece. It's reassuring to see how well this works. "You're a crew, support each other! The exercise is only over when everyone has made it," they say.

Once again into the water: put your arms protectively over the protruding parts on the float, step forwards - splash! Is the water temperature still supposed to be over 20 degrees?

After more than an hour, it feels much colder. Once again, everyone swims over the waves through the pool. At the other end, a ladder hangs in the water, a Jason's Cradle MOB system. It goes up there. What would be a steep, rocking ship's side in an emergency is a solid, tiled pool wall here.

And yet, as a plaything of the wave, it is not easy to get hold of the ladder in the right places and pull yourself up. "Reach up long with your arms, then pull your upper body close to the ladder," advises Horst, who assists again. It actually works surprisingly well. All six casualties master this too. On the last step onto the edge of the pool, someone always grabs under their arm to help them.

Then it's really done. We can take a deep breath - and take a hot shower.

Late in the afternoon, after many more exercises (see galleries below), it's time to sum up. "You pushed us to our limits!" is how one participant sums it up. Many agree and want to put their safety equipment on board to the test. However, there is also a consensus on how useful it is to consciously face the worst-case scenario in this training programme.

Licensed and DSV-listed course providers

So-called "World Sailing Offshore Sea Survival" courses are organised throughout Germany. On request, there are also courses for closed groups such as sailing clubs or larger regatta crews. The German Sailing Association (DSV) licences the providers in this country. The content is based on the Offshore Special Regulations of the World Sailing Association.

For regatta sailors, participation is even mandatory before certain offshore events. For cruising sailors, they are an exciting, voluntary preparation for an emergency. The following licenced providers of survival-at-sea courses are listed with the DSV:

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