It had been a very long night. It was about midnight. We had already carried out a full 2 hour sortie in the SAR Wessex from Chivenor, looking for the source of a mysterious 'red flare' seen by several people from the North Devon coastline.
The coastguards had given us a large block of water to search, about 2 to 3 miles off shore. I was carefully following the Navs instuctions from the left hand seat as he monitored the search pattern using our ancient Decca machine dials and an almost incomprehensible map.
It was pitch black and at 500ft with no radalt hold or autopilot fitted, I was fully occupied with my instrument scan. The only person looking out was the third man of the crew, the winchman, sitting in the open doorway scanning with a pair of hand held NVG's. (The SAR Wessex was not fitted for NVG's and only the rear crew could use them to aid in searches)
Just as I announced we had only sufficient fuel for another 30 minutes of searching (and hoping we had probably been the victim of yet another 'FAWGI'
('false alarm with good intent') the winchman's incredulous voice called out on the intercomm; "Target sighted!"
"Two o clock, 1/4 of a mile, approximately, man in single seat dingy, waving"
What happened then was, on reflection, the crews first night 'drum winching circuit', conducted by the winchman on NVG's, the pilot on instuments and the Nav on adrenaline.
We found ourselves at a 30 ft hover (manual) with the casualty in the 2 o'clock at 10 units, (about 50 ft away).
Now in the Wessex, as the Nav has to climb vertically down into the cabin to take his position as winchop, the SOP was for this to be carried out (safely) at 500ft. The Nav sat with a set of dual controls in front of him. The 500ft was in case the Nav slipped on the rubber covered steps as he lifted his seat and gingerly extricated himself down into the cabin area. (Especially difficult if the Nav was slightly 'portly' around the tummy area.)
Our Nav tonight had the nickname 'Bear'.
He was not a slight man.
What to do? If we went up and around to 'safely' move the Nav at 500ft we would never get back to to this almost ideal position for picking up the casualty.
I made my decision and the crew agreed. The Nav unbuckled himself, stood up and pulled the seat up behind him. He took one step down the damp rubber waterproof indentations.
He then slipped down the rest of the steps until he came to rest, his movement arrested by the co-pilots cyclic firmly jammed between the inside of his lifejacket and his shapely body!
Shall I continue?
(Years later, I discovered Seaking night letdowns were like a breathe of fresh air!)