An isolated shingle spit nature reserve. We’d lost mains power in a storm some while back and were running on a generator. Fuel deliveries were hard to arrange. We’d finally got one. We were pretty much running on fumes and another storm was coming in. We really needed this delivery.
To collect the fuel, I had to take the Unimog along a dump track and across 5 miles of loose shingle - including one low causeway stretch through a lagoon that was prone to wash out during storms. We’d rebuilt it a LOT over the years. On the way up, there was plenty of water around there, but it was still solid.
I get up to the top ok and get the tank full - 2000L of red diesel - but the wind is pretty strong by the time I have. Half way back, I drop down off the seawall and reach the causeway section. The water is just about topping over. If I don’t go immediately, I won’t get through at all and we will be out of fuel for days - maybe weeks. So I put my foot down and get through that section only to find that 200 meters on, another section already has washed out. Oh shit.
I back up a little but sure enough the first section has also washed through now. I now have the vehicle and a full load of fuel marooned on a short section of causeway that is slowly washing out. Oh double shit. Probably more than double. Calling it in on the radio, everyone else agrees and starts preparing for a pollution incident.
In the end I find the firmest spot that I can in that short stretch and leave the Moggie there. Picking my route and my moment carefully I can get off that ‘island’ on foot - no hope with the truck - BUT due to the layout of the lagoons only to the seaward ridge, where the waves are now crashing over into the lagoon with alarming force. I then spend one of the longest half-hours I can remember freezing cold and drenched, scrambling yard by yard along the back side of that ridge and flattening myself and hoping each time a big wave hits.
The firm bit of causeway survived and there was no washed away Unimog or pollution in the end - and I didn’t drown either - but much more by luck than judgement.
These days I am in a position where I am responsible for writing risk assessments and methods statements for procedures like this. It was another world back then.
An isolated shingle spit nature reserve. We’d lost mains power in a storm some while back and were running on a generator. Fuel deliveries were hard to arrange. We’d finally got one. We were pretty much running on fumes and another storm was coming in. We really needed this delivery.
To collect the fuel, I had to take the Unimog along a dump track and across 5 miles of loose shingle - including one low causeway stretch through a lagoon that was prone to wash out during storms. We’d rebuilt it a LOT over the years. On the way up, there was plenty of water around there, but it was still solid.
I get up to the top ok and get the tank full - 2000L of red diesel - but the wind is pretty strong by the time I have. Half way back, I drop down off the seawall and reach the causeway section. The water is just about topping over. If I don’t go immediately, I won’t get through at all and we will be out of fuel for days - maybe weeks. So I put my foot down and get through that section only to find that 200 meters on, another section already has washed out. Oh shit.
I back up a little but sure enough the first section has also washed through now. I now have the vehicle and a full load of fuel marooned on a short section of causeway that is slowly washing out. Oh double shit. Probably more than double. Calling it in on the radio, everyone else agrees and starts preparing for a pollution incident.
In the end I find the firmest spot that I can in that short stretch and leave the Moggie there. Picking my route and my moment carefully I can get off that ‘island’ on foot - no hope with the truck - BUT due to the layout of the lagoons only to the seaward ridge, where the waves are now crashing over into the lagoon with alarming force. I then spend one of the longest half-hours I can remember freezing cold and drenched, scrambling yard by yard along the back side of that ridge and flattening myself and hoping each time a big wave hits.
The firm bit of causeway survived and there was no washed away Unimog or pollution in the end - and I didn’t drown either - but much more by luck than judgement.
These days I am in a position where I am responsible for writing risk assessments and methods statements for procedures like this. It was another world back then.
That is seriously some action movie shit