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They expected to die — marooned by sea and fog. Their pleasant beach ride had turned into a scary nightmare. Help came at the last hour and a dramatic rescue followed. The horses were finally safety rescued after two nights on their rocky refuge Sue Headdon tells their ‘gripping’ true life story.

IT SHOULD have been their usual good canter along the beach but, for Dangerman and Monty, it was almost their last. As the Meet of the Jersey Drag Hunt had been cancelled after heavy rain, Rowena and Diana decided to exercise their super-fit horses on the beach that afternoon. They had ridden there countless times before and Rowena knew it well, having lived near it for 16 years. It was an overcast day, but they could see for miles when they set out. The sea was a long way out. It came as quite a shock to find, as they rode along, that suddenly, everything was shrouded in thick fog. Not a sound to be heard, nothing to be seen except the odd rock in the sand a few yards around the horses feet.

They plodded on towards what they thought was home until they came across the old Seymour Tower, an 18th century fortification built on an outcrop of rocks over a mile out to sea. At least they had a land-mark they knew and could now find their way back, keeping the sea on their right-hand side.

But the tide was coming in — fast—and the horses kept stumbling into deep, water-filled gullies. They came across their own hoof-prints and found themselves back again at the tower which loomed out of the dense fog when they were almost underneath it.

By now fear was rising with the tide and the horses made another brave effort to cross the gullies. The riders dismounted as the horses struggled in water often up to their bellies and almost up to the riders’ waists. It was now about 4.3Opm and high tide was due in just three hours (Rowena always checks before riding on the beach). The water was creeping up over the higher sand-bars on the beach when they stumbled across the tower for the third time and they realised they were surrounded. There was only one way to go. Up.

Dangerman went first, up the steep, rocky steps to the platform at the base of the tower itself. They were now forty feet above the swirling waters which were already licking at the steps that the horses had so calmly and bravely climbed only seconds before. It was as if they too knew that this was their only hope.

Having reached safety, at least for the moment, Rowena and Diana heaved a great sigh of relief and loosened the horses’ girths. They managed to loop the reins through a sort of wire clothes-line stretched along the wall before trying to get into the tower. But they were unable to reach the door or small windows fifteen feet above the walled, stone platform.

Darkness was falling and the tide climbed ever higher towards them. Waves began to break against the protecting walls, the spray flying over the top. Monty and Dangerman sensed the peril that was rising with every inch of the tide and needed a lot of gentle talking, stroking and patting to try and keep them calm.

Monty, at 22 years old, was beginning to feel the cold so, well as all the leading around the platform that they had be doing, Rowena and Diana

rubbed the horses legs, ears and necks to warm them up (and themselves too as they were both shivering).

They detached the numnah to put over the horses’ loins to try and keep their backs

warmer, having left the saddles on for a little more warmth.

Dangerman, at eight years old and of heavier build, did not seem to feel the cold as much and stood on the windier side the platform as if to shelter the older horse who snuggled up against him.

There was now a real threat that they would all be washed away as some tides in Jersey can be over 40 feet high.

Worrying that they might never be found, Rowena and Diana scratched their names on the wall so that the rescuers would know that they had been there

As the water crept up the steps, they stripped off the martingales and leathers to

make a life-line only realising later that the strong currents would have torn them away from it anyway.

Straining to see their watches as dark tell, they could only wait helplessly. Suddenly, they realised that the tide had turned and with enormous relief, saw a flare that the rescuers had sent up Help was on the way.

Two life-boats arrived, having taken over an hour to find the tower in the dense fog and rain. They had realised that that was the only place they would find survivors. One remained nearby, while the other returned to organise the rescue party and bring out food and blankets for the survivors. As the rescue operation got underway ashore, Rowena and Diana rubbed the horses legs and ears again as the chill of midnight approached.

The first helpers soon arrived by tractor and trailer. Two vets and their assistants brought leg bandages and more rugs and— of course — hay and water. The horses were checked over and given an anti-stress injection to keep them calm. It was now quite obvious, as the tide fell, that they could not possibly go down those terrible rocky steps in the dark, and maybe not even in daylight.

Rowena’s husband, two friends and the police arrived by another tractor. But Diana had to be taken off as she had hurt -her back and was very cold and soaked through.

The rescuers brought the tower keys and found it welt-equipped. With the hot food the hospital had sent, Rowena was able to warm up and the helpers took  turns to look after the horses who were now quite warm, comfortable and welt-fed.

There was little rest for anyone as they planned how to get the horses safely off. They were going to try with helicopters the next day. But when Sunday dawned, these hopes were dashed as the helicopters were grounded by fog in England whilst it was clear in Jersey.

The only other likely plan was to build a ramp using boulders and sand from the beach. A man brought a digger out to try it when the tide was low again at lunchtime. It would work — but it would need more machines to build it in time. They would only have 2 to 3 hours at the next low tide, late on the Sunday night.

Everyone knew that there would only be ONE chance, as each tide was getting higher than the last. With gales forecast, the sea would then be breaking over the walls of the platform and the horses would be washed away in the currents which sweep around that huge, rocky bay and crash against the walls of the tower. There would only be one choice left then — to shoot the horses.

The day passed quickly with the vets, press and other people coming backwards and forwards. A welcome visitor brought a trailer-load of hay to build a wall to provide more shelter for the horses, but they seemed more interested in eating it everyone tried to get a little rest before the long night began. It was now—or never.

At about midnight, a convoy of lights came creeping across the black sand. The giant earth-mover and two diggers swung into action, piling up boulders against the steps and heaping 900 tonnes of sand on top in just one and a half hours.

But it seemed a lifetime as they built towards the top of the steps, level with the platform. The machine’s giant arm shovelling up the sand in a desperate race against time and tide. The hay-bales were made into a sort of tunnel to lead the horses towards the top of the ramp and shield them from the sight of the huge machines

At the foot of the ramp, a friend’s grey mare, Jane, was patiently waiting. Completely calm in spite of all the noise, bustle and lights. Jane was there to help tempt Monty and Dangerman onto the ramp which was now their only hope of survival.

It was Dangerman who was led onto the ramp first as Jane was led a little way up it to encourage him down. He hesitated at first as his feet sank into the sand, but the mare gave a little whinny as if so say “It’s all right. Come on’.

Monty took courage from this and passed Dangerman to walk steadily down with Dangerman following, They were safe, but with just 20 minutes to spare before the tide came galloping in again like a runaway racehorse.

Everyone rushed to clear the beach of all the lights and equipment, but there was one last drama as the giant earth-mover broke down and had to be towed to safety. The horses were led back to the slip-way, guided by a flashing police-light, glad to stretch their legs after their long ordeal.

They were boxed-up to the cheers of all the waiting people and taken home to a bran-mash and a welcome bed. It was then 5 o’clock in the morning. By the next high tide, the ramp had gone. Completely swept away, all but a few boulders remained.

Fortunately, all recovered well from their terrifying ordeal and were enjoying some early spring sunshine when I went to meet two very brave horses and their courageous owners.

Rowena has a message for anyone who rides over any wide open space such as beach or moorland. ALWAYS carry a compass and know how to USE it. You might have ridden over the same ground for years and think it could never happen to you. It could.

Monty and Dangerman, Rowena and Diana would like to pass on their deepest thanks to ALL the many people who helped in their dramatic rescue. Without that help, there would only have been a message scratched into a wall on a lonely tower miles out at sea to show that they were ever there.

© Sue Headdon 1987