On Monday 22 October 2007 I accepted an invitation from Skegness Coxswain John Irving to join some training. By 5.30pm the waterproof tractor was attached to the carriage and the Mersey class lifeboat The Lincolnshire Poacher was towed out of the boathouse and across the sand to the waterline. The four securing chains were released and the boat slipped into the waves with we crew onboard and a crowd of people watching. The inshore Leicester Fox II D class launched too.

We had barely been at sea 5 minutes when we were informed of a yacht in trouble. Kegger was a 9m single-masted wooden boat crewed by a lone but experienced yachtsman, Mike. Struggling with engine and battery failure, he had been up since 3am.

We drew alongside for Crew Members Ian and Wiggy to fi x the engine. Fenders were used between the vessels but a hand or foot could easily be crushed in a moment’s lack of concentration. We towed Kegger parallel to the shore to reduce the pitching in the swell. The Poacher and her charge kept in radio contact while the D class ferried equipment. The light was fading fast but we continued like this for 2½ hours.

Eventually Ian and Wiggy removed the fuel fi lters, which were blocked. The heavy seas had shaken up sediment in the tank – such a little thing but the consequences were serious. By 9pm, the engine was still dead and Mike prepared to anchor offshore for the night. He was not in immediate danger but was absolutely exhausted. I was really struck by the efforts made. John instructed Mike to ring his mobile if needed. Ian and Wiggy were covered in diesel. I think one of them must have swallowed some, as he was sick over the side.

The evening had not fi nished yet, though, as the two lifeboats had to be recovered and several more volunteers were there to assist. The tractor dragged Poacher right out of the water, hauled her over skids and then up onto the carriage. Once secure, she was driven back up the beach to be washed down and refuelled. But the mission was not over.

The crew suggested I see the whole shout through. This was too good an opportunity to miss. By now it was nearly 10pm and I decided not to drive home but to stop in Skegness. I was very glad to sleep in a bed that night and not be out in the cold North Sea swaying 30° from side to side.

Tuesday was bright and sunny. Among the crew were the manager of a holiday centre, a police offi cer, a joiner and a window cleaner. Six were giving up a day’s wages to fi nish this job. Some had been up early to get their own work done. I wondered how many people would be prepared to put themselves out in such a way to help others. 25Names of the casualty boat and skipper have been changed for privacy25I was the observer on this trip and such a unique opportunity should not be wasted. If I could do anything useful it was to record and pass on the story to volunteers inland to give them an insight into what really happens on a shout.

Once alongside Kegger, two of the newer crew, Lee and Billy, were transferred to secure the tow rope. They would remain on the yacht for the long tow to Grimsby. A couple of bacon butties were passed to Mike with a ‘there you go, me duck’. At around 10am, the Kegger’s anchor chain was recovered, the tow rope attached and the Poacher’s engines roared at a steady 6–7 knots.

For the less experienced crew there was no time to relax. In the wheelhouse an array of gauges and screens gave them all the information they could need. It just reinforced how much these volunteers must learn. Two were given extended navigation training: plotting a course, setting a heading, range and bearing. Everything was backed up and hand drawn onto a chart with pencil, compass and ruler so that, should equipment fail, they could cope the traditional way.

I started to think about the cost of what we were doing. I overheard the Coxswain radioing the station to get 2,000 litres of diesel delivered. It takes an exceptional coffee morning to raise that amount of money!

North of Mablethorpe is the offshore bombing range at Donna Nook. It was active that day so we took a 3–4 mile detour. Gradually we got closer to the mouth of the Humber estuary, and some of the busiest shipping lanes in the world.

Huge tankers stood waiting and pilot boats zipped across the water. We passed from the coordination of the Yarmouth Coastguard to Humber and I could hear other languages coming over the airwaves. Everything is coordinated via the Humber Vessel Traffi c Service, like an air traffi c controller. Eventually we drew in through the lock gates. I witnessed a fl urry of activity as Kegger was brought alongside and lashed to our starboard side. We motored very slowly into the dock. I was so impressed with the ‘reverse parallel parking’ as Kegger was gently edged into her mooring and secured at last. It was handshakes all round from Mike, a very grateful mariner.

At 3.30pm we were heading back at 16 knots, trailing a thrashing wake. The Sun was starting to sink and the temperature to drop. Salt spray was thrown right over the Poacher and the crew were all in the wheelhouse. The navigation training was continuing when John asked if I wanted to have a go at steering.

Trying to maintain a constant course when rising waves and an incoming tide are constantly pushing you off is not that straightforward. The windscreen wipers kept my view clear and I did my best. After 40 minutes I handed back the wheel and noticed just how tense my shoulders had been and how much concentration it had taken. We arrived back at Skegness at 5.40pm. Once again the army of shore helpers was ready.

What I had witnessed was something done not for fi nancial or personal gain but because it was the right thing to do. At the station nobody makes a song and dance about it but it made me very proud. We can fundraise for boats, equipment and training but you cannot buy courage and commitment. Was it all worth it? Just ask Mike from Sunderland.