Jolt dampers are a great thing. The jerk with which a line tightens and holds the boat is dampened. Instead of the whole boat jerking when strong winds pull on it, the pull is dampened and it doesn't jerk, well, let's say it jerks less.
On our second visit to Kefalonia, but soon to be Biosphera, the wind was coming from the side of the jetty. The boat was therefore not being pushed onto the jetty but away from it and the lines were constantly stretched to the limit. While we were trying to fall asleep in our lovely berth, every jolt pulled us back abruptly. We had had a great day, sailing in the sun and making good time despite the light wind. We had inspected everything and tested many things, we felt increasingly comfortable on board. I was full of zest for action and didn't want to put up with the constant jerking. A shock absorber was needed! As the neighbouring boat also belonged to our boat seller, I clarified that we could borrow a damper. So out of the bunk, over to the neighbouring boat, untie the line, back to the pier, remove the shock absorber, back on the boat, reattach the line without the shock absorber. I eagerly jumped back and forth even though it was now after 10.00 p.m. and therefore quite dark in February. Full of zest for action, I dragged my captured shock absorber to the boat, untied the lines so that I had one free to install the shock absorber. Back on the boat, off the boat, untie the line here, tie it up again there. Some of it was a bit tricky on my own, but I didn't want to wake Katja from her cosy bunk. She had told me to get her immediately if I needed help, but I'm Captain Supermartin and I can do it on my own! It went really well... until I suddenly saw myself slowly sliding towards the black harbour basin with my back to the concrete quay wall. I don't know how I got there but I know I tried to hold on, which didn't really work. And then I found myself swimming in full gear in the black harbour basin. The water isn't so scary once you're in it. It was cold and while swimming I realised that my right arm didn't really want to cooperate. So I called for Katja, who came out of her cosy bunk and paddled with one arm towards the swim ladder, which Katja quickly lowered. She wanted to test it too... and with one arm! Not so easy to get out of cold water with one arm and wet clothes. I managed it with Katja's help, who then pulled me out of my wet clothes. With a dislocated arm, I was helpless, like a small child. How good that Katja had experience with this. She bundled me naked and shivering into my bunk, alerted the ambulance and less than an hour later I was in the ambulance, still with a dislocated arm, heading for St Tropez, where the arm was put back in place after another hour of pain.
This put a damper on the line and our euphoria. As if it hadn't been enough that we had already learnt what could happen in the "Medicine at Sea" course a week earlier. We were to experience it. First hand. Katja, how it felt to suddenly have to carry out almost all the work alone. Me, how bad risk management can be painfully, and I say really painfully, penalised. The whole thing happened on 28 February and today, Friday 13 June, I still can't lift my arm properly again. The aim is to have a functioning arm again at the beginning of August.