Things break offshore. They break in the dark, in a seaway, miles from a marina, which is precisely when you cannot pop to the chandlery. The skill that separates a manageable problem from a real one is not knowing how to weld or splice perfectly. It is the ability to keep the boat sailing, dry and steerable long enough to reach a place where a proper repair can happen. That is improvisation, and it is its own discipline.
I have done my share of mid-passage bodges in French waters, some elegant, some embarrassing, all good enough to get us in. Here is how I think about it now.
First, decide whether it is an emergency or an inconvenience
The first job when something breaks is not to fix it. It is to classify it. Is anyone in danger? Is the boat taking on water faster than the pumps can clear it? Is the hull, rig or rudder failing in a way that will get worse fast? If yes, you have an emergency and you should be reaching for the radio, not the toolbox.
If the answer is no, you have an inconvenience that can become an emergency if you panic and make it worse. The engine has quit but you are under sail in open water: inconvenience. The forestay has parted but the mast is still standing because you got the running backstays on: serious, but managed. Slow down, get the boat stable and safe, and then think.
When to call for help, and how, in French waters
If it is a genuine emergency, France has a single, well-organised rescue system. The CROSS centres (the regional surveillance and rescue centres) coordinate everything, operate 24 hours a day, and monitor VHF channel 16 and DSC channel 70. From a mobile ashore or in coverage you can also reach them free on 196, the dedicated maritime emergency number introduced in 2014.
The three Channel CROSS centres are Gris-Nez covering the eastern Channel, Jobourg the central Channel, and Corsen the western approaches and Brittany, with further centres down the Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts. For a true distress, use DSC: holding the distress button sends a digital alert on channel 70 carrying your MMSI and GPS position, then you talk on 16. Knowing the procedure and a few French phrases before you need them is worth an evening's study, and it overlaps with the wider comms picture rather than belonging only to a crisis.
The hard part for many skippers is the in-between: not a Mayday, but you need a tow or advice. That is a Pan-Pan on 16, and CROSS will help you coordinate. Do not sit in worsening trouble out of British reluctance to make a fuss. They would far rather hear from you early.
The four failures that matter, and the improvised fix
Taking on water. The priority above all others. Find the ingress, slow it, and get the water out. Soft wooden bungs tied to every skin fitting, a collision mat or a cushion and a board over a hull breach, self-amalgamating tape and jubilee clips for a burst hose, and the bilge pumps running hard. The detail of stemming a serious leak is its own subject, and I went through the kit and the drill in the piece on what to do when you are taking on water.
Rig failure. A parted stay or shroud can be jury-rigged with a spare halyard led to the chainplate and winched tight, taking the mast load while you reduce sail and turn downwind to ease it. Spare Sta-Lok or other swageless terminals, assembled with hand tools alone, let you make off a broken wire properly enough to keep the rig standing to port. Self-amalgamating tape and a few bulldog grips belong in the same bag. The full anatomy of a rig failure and the recovery sequence is in rigging failure on a French passage.
Engine failure. Often it is fuel: a blocked filter, air in the system, a clogged pre-filter after a gulp of dirty diesel in a seaway. Spare filters, the means to bleed the system and a clean look at the fuel are most of the cure. If it is the raw-water side, a spare impeller and the spanners to reach it. Many engine stops are recoverable underway by someone who carries the right three spares, which is the case I make in engine service and parts on the French coast.
Steering failure. Know your emergency tiller and have tried fitting it before you needed it, in daylight, alongside. A failed autopilot is an inconvenience if you can hand-steer; a failed steering quadrant or cable is serious. Drogue-and-warp steering, or sheeting the sails to balance the helm, will hold a course while you sort it.
The kit that makes improvisation possible
You cannot bodge with an empty locker. The emergency repair bag that has earned its place aboard my boat:
- Soft wooden bungs on lanyards at every seacock, plus a collision mat or improvised equivalent
- Self-amalgamating tape, plenty of it, and a range of jubilee clips
- Spare swageless terminals, bulldog grips, shackles and a length of spare wire or Dyneema
- Spare fuel filters, impeller, belts, and the tools to fit them
- Epoxy putty, a self-tapping repair tape, marine sealant and a roll of duct tape
- A serious knife, a hacksaw and bolt croppers (the last for dropping a rig over the side if it threatens to hole the hull)
This overlaps heavily with the standing spares list, and I pulled the whole thing together in spares and tools to carry when cruising France. The difference is that the emergency bag lives somewhere you can reach it in the dark, fast, with one hand.
Then get to a yard
An improvised repair is a means of reaching a permanent one, never the end of the story. Once you are safely alongside, the jury rig comes out and the professional repair goes in. The advantage of breaking down in France is the density of trades: a competent welder, rigger, electrician or fibreglass shop is rarely far, and the chandlery networks carry the parts. The fastest route to the right person is usually the marina office and the chandlery counter, the connected-trades effect I keep returning to in the overview of chandlers and boat repairs in France for the visitor.
The mindset is the thing. Stay calm, classify the problem honestly, stabilise the boat, call for help early if you need it, and use your bodge to buy the miles to harbour. The sailors who get into real trouble are rarely the ones whose gear broke. They are the ones who had no plan and no bag when it did.
